chapter 32

 

 

Alison dropped the PADD on her desk and ran a hand through her hair. “God, this is a pain,” she muttered. For the fourth night in a row, she was staying late at the office in an attempt to get a handle on her new duties as fund manager for Lynne’s trust. That woman simply had no idea what she had asked of her. These holdings were vast, and while she had no trouble understanding the various reports she was now going through, pulling them all together into a big picture was proving to be challenging. The overall database she’d made had gotten too big to allow for easy visuals, so this evening she’d given up on it and begun creating a three-dimensional chart with her holoprojector. As the relationships between the various holdings began to take shape, even the 3D chart was growing too complicated for her tastes. There just didn’t seem to be a way to break all of this down into a picture that she could grasp.

Which was ridiculous, because really, Lynne’s holdings weren’t any more complicated than those of the Hamilton Foundation.

Yes, except you’ve had seven years to soak up all the details of the Foundation’s trust and budget.

She sighed. It was already nine o’clock and she hadn’t had dinner yet. Nor was she in the mood for yet another replicated meal from her office dispenser.

Making the decision in an instant, she stood up, pulled on her jacket, and walked out. So far as she could tell, she was the only person left in the building besides cleaning and security staff. Not surprising; they were in the middle of the financial quarter and hadn’t yet hit the crunch time that end-of-quarter reports created. During those weeks, midnight could come and go but one would never know it by the numbers of people still at their desks.

“Hi, Ben,” she said as she reached one of the cleaning staff. “How are you?”

“Evening, Dr. Necheyev.” Ben was quite a bit taller than she, and as thin as a reed. “I’m good, thanks. You finally going home?”

“No, I’m just craving Thai food. And not from a replicator.”

He grinned. “That is an advantage of working downtown. I had dinner at Guo Gao's before starting my shift.”

“Oh, ow.” Alison gripped her stomach, which had actually contracted as Ben had pronounced the name of her favorite Thai restaurant. “God, that sounds good. Keep the lights on for me, will you?”

“Sure thing. You want me to clean your office while you’re gone?”

“No thanks, I still have things scattered all over. I’ll be back in a few minutes with a big white bag.”

Giving her a teasing look, he said, “Try not to open it until you get back.”

Her stomach growled loudly as she stood in the silent lift. “I know,” she told it. “He just had to go and say it out loud, didn’t he?” Pulling her comm unit out of her pocket, she hit a preprogrammed key. “Yes,” she said a moment later, “I’d like to order a chicken pad thai, medium hot.”

The walk to Guo Gao’s cleared her mind, and by the time she arrived her meal was waiting for her. It was near torture walking back with the smells wafting from her stasis bag, but she consoled herself with happy thoughts of digging into it in the comfort of her office. The ride back up the lift was particularly difficult as heavenly odors filled the small space.

When the doors opened on the top floor, Ben was standing in front of them with his cart. “Whoo,” he exclaimed as she stepped out. “That smells fantastic. If I hadn’t already eaten I’d be passing out right about now.”

“I’m close to it. Don’t get in my way.”

He laughed as he pushed his cart into the lift. “Well, I’m off to the fourteenth. Have a good night, Dr. Necheyev. Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t.” She smiled at him and then made her way down the quiet hall to her office. Her hand was nearly on the touch pad when she heard a soft noise from inside.

She froze. What the hell?

In an instant the silence of the empty floor shifted from comforting to threatening, and she backed a step away, staring at her door with wide eyes. Somebody was in there. And it wasn’t Ben, the only person in this entire building who had any reason to be there. Ben, who had clearly been unaware of anything wrong on the fifteenth floor…but then, he’d been cleaning offices. It would have been simple for someone to walk right past whichever office he’d been cleaning without him being any the wiser.

She thought of the microtransmitter and wondered if someone was replacing it. But why? There wasn’t any point any more.

Another sound floated out from behind the door—the quiet but unmistakeable scrape of one of her desk drawers being opened. As Alison pictured someone leaning over her desk, going through her things, her fear suddenly gave way to anger. She’d had just about enough of this. That was her office, goddammit, and she was tired of it being used as some sort of operations center for hurting other people.

Carefully she walked back down the hall and around the corner, then stopped and set her bag on the floor. Pulling out her comm unit, she called a FedComm number she had programmed in just a few days ago.

“This is Commander Tuvok,” came the calm voice. “Is there anything wrong, Dr. Necheyev?”

“Commander,” she whispered. “There’s someone inside my office, looking around.”

“Are you safe?” he asked instantly.

“I’m just outside the office. Whoever it is, they don’t know I’m here. But there’s nobody else on this floor right now.”

“I will be there in five minutes. Do not allow yourself to be seen or heard. Do you understand?”

“I understand. Hurry.”

“Tuvok out.”

She stood uncertainly in the hall, the silence pressing on her. Part of her wanted just to get the hell off this floor, to go to the lobby and stand behind one of the potted palms until Tuvok arrived, but another part wouldn’t allow her to leave. What if Tuvok got here too late and whoever this person was finished up his business and simply walked out? Then she’d never know who had been violating her privacy—again. At the very least, she could find a place to hide where she could see what was happening.

She stepped to the first door in the hall and tried the keypad. Locked. She went to the second. Locked.

Shit! Ben’s already left, she realized. When he was done cleaning each office for the night, he locked it behind him. The only office on this entire floor that she could get into right now was her own.

The sound of a door sliding open sent a chill down her spine, and for a moment she couldn’t move at all. That was my door.

There was nowhere she could go. She was in a long hallway, with transparent aluminum on one side and locked office doors on the other. If she started running right now, she’d still be in sight when the intruder came around the corner. She turned, staring in fear at the corner behind her.

Her takeaway bag still sat on the floor.

Desperation gave her courage, and she crept back, quietly picking up the bag and holding it as tightly as she could. The intruder’s footsteps were light and unhurried. Whoever this was felt no sense of urgency, and with that realization her anger surged back. She stood, trembling with anticipation, as the footsteps drew nearer. Then she saw a flash of cloth and swung with all her strength, aiming high.

The impact exploded the stasis bag, sending chicken pad thai everywhere. A scream shattered the silence, and Alison watched in shocked astonishment as the intruder crashed to the floor. An intruder in a very expensive, well-cut suit, with shoulder length, glossy black hair.

Elise Hamilton stared up at her, holding one hand to her nose and the other out in front of her. “No!” she gasped. “God, please don’t. Don’t hurt me.”

Alison was so stunned that she momentarily forgot how to speak. At last she managed, “Me? Hurt you? You’re the one hiring assassins, for God’s sake!”

“What?!” Elise’s gray eyes were dazed. “Are you insane? You must be! Oh, God…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Alison in pure terror. “I won’t tell anyone. Just please—let me go. Please. I promise.” Blood was trickling out from under the hand she held over her nose.

Alison heard the lift doors open behind her, but she wasn’t about to look away from Elise, lying on the hall floor and still holding out her hand in a pleading gesture.

“Dr. Necheyev, step away,” said Commander Tuvok, coming up beside her. Elise’s eyes grew even wider as she took in the phaser pointed at her.

“Fuck!” She dropped both hands to the floor and tried to scramble backwards, but came up against the opposite wall. Her face was a bloody mess where her hand had been covering her nose and mouth.

“Don’t move another muscle, Ms. Hamilton, or I will stun you,” said Tuvok.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tears were rolling down her face now, mixing with the blood. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Dr. Necheyev, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Commander. Thanks for getting here so quickly.” Belatedly, Alison realized that she was still holding onto the shattered remnants of her stasis bag. With a grimace, she dropped it on the floor. “If you didn’t do anything, then what in the name of God were you doing in my office?”

Elise looked from her to Tuvok and back again. “I…I was looking…for evidence.”

Alison frowned. “Evidence of what?”

But Elise seemed to be beyond answering, and her obvious fear finally got through Alison’s own shock. “Commander, I think there’s been a mistake,” she said.

He was already holstering his phaser, apparently having come to the same conclusion. “Ms. Hamilton,” he said, holding out his hand. “If you’ll come with me, please.”

She stared at his hand for several long moments before accepting it and allowing herself to be pulled up. “Oh fuck,” she gasped, covering her nose again. “That hurt.” She coughed, and Alison winced at the sound of it.

“Lean your head forward,” said Tuvok. “It will make breathing easier and keep the blood out of your throat.”

“Jesus. Did I break it?” Alison was a little horrified at herself.

Tuvok looked around at the remnants of Alison’s dinner, then at the broken bag on the floor. His eyebrow twitched up. “No. She has capillary damage, but I believe her cartilage is intact. The nasal capillaries in Humans tend to bleed excessively when ruptured. Do you have a first aid kit nearby?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Alison raced down the hall to the lift, where the first aid kit sat in its wall recess. Grabbing the box off its hook, she hurried back, arriving at her office just as Tuvok was helping Elise through the door. He directed her to the couch, where she slumped onto the cushions, her head hanging down. Alison set the kit on her conference table, pulled out the regenerator, and handed it to Tuvok.

“Thank you. Ms. Hamilton, please lift your head. This will not hurt.”

As he began running the regenerator over her nose, Elise took in a great gulp of air, still stunned and afraid but trying to control it. Alison couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. She’d never seen Elise looking anything but elegant. In a way, seeing her reduced to this was as shocking as knowing that she was the one who’d broken into her office.

A moment later Elise turned her head in response to a quiet request from Tuvok, and their eyes met. The expression she saw finally jolted Alison into action, and by the time Tuvok was finished, she was standing in front of Elise with a hand towel soaked in cold water. Silently Elise took the cloth and wiped her face, grimacing at the blood that swiftly turned it pink. She folded it and wiped again and again, until Alison put a hand on her wrist. “You’ve got it all,” she said.

Elise nodded, rubbed her hands clean on the towel and handed it back. Alison tossed it onto the conference table and dragged a chair over to sit in front of the couch. “You said you were looking for evidence,” she said. “Against me?”

After a silence so pronounced that Alison began to believe she wouldn’t answer, Elise finally said, “Yes. I was convinced it was you. But I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Ms. Hamilton,” said Tuvok, “I told you and the other board members yesterday that Dr. Necheyev was not a suspect. Why did you persist in your conviction?”

“Because you didn’t seem to see what was right in front of you,” she said. “She was the only person who knew where Lynne and Captain Janeway were, and when assassins showed up out of the blue, a microtransmitter was magically found in this office. What a perfect way to throw off blame. And then she ends up as the only person Lynne trusts, and suddenly gets a promotion to sole fund manager. I just couldn’t believe that you didn’t see how it all added up. And to top it all off, Lynne tells us that she’ll reconsider her decision to fire us if we come up with the real killer. So I decided to come in here and look around, to see if I could find something.”

“And did you?” asked Alison coldly. Her nascent sympathy for Elise had evaporated; she’d had just about enough of people suspecting her.

“Just the evidence of you trying to figure out the Hamilton trust fund holdings.” Elise indicated the holoprojector, and something in Alison snapped.

“Five days ago I had Lynne breathing fire in my face for the same damn suspicion,” she said, not even trying to tamp down her anger. “Except she had much better reasons, and when we found the microtransmitter she had the grace to apologize to me. Now I’m sure it’ll be a cold day in hell before you show the same grace, but I am sick and tired of being everyone’s scapegoat. I have busted my ass for over a year now, trying to make sure that Voyager came home safely and that no harm came to Lynne. And just where the hell have you been all that time, hm? She is your family, and you’ve done nothing to help her! Oh, except to break into my office. And did you do that for her? No, you did it to save your damn job!” She looked Elise up and down with total contempt. “If this is what wealth does to people, then I thank God I was raised a different way.”

Elise stared at her in shock, and Tuvok stepped in.

“Ms. Hamilton, I believe you’ve underestimated this investigation. Perhaps you’ve had prior experience with law enforcement that gave you reason to doubt the competence of investigators, but I assure you that I have been as diligent as possible. Of course I saw the same connections you did. But I also knew that Dr. Necheyev was responsible for saving Voyager from destruction in the Delta Quadrant. That gave me a different frame through which to view her. You have not had this information, and without it, you’ve drawn an inaccurate conclusion regarding her character.”

“What do you mean, she saved Voyager?” Elise’s eyebrows were contracted in disbelief.

Tuvok looked at Alison, who really wasn’t in the mood to explain. But he seemed to think it was her story, so she sighed and said, “Back when you first told me about Lynne’s existence, I suspected that the threat she posed to the status quo might be too much for someone. So I did a little maneuvering to make sure that every report coming out of the Foundation got thoroughly examined by Starfleet engineers before it was passed on to Voyager. One of those engineers found something in the slipstream drive report that didn’t quite wash. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he’s a brilliant engineer, and I trusted his instincts. So did my aunt. So she gave Captain Janeway a big hint about it. Of course she couldn’t come right out and say anything, because an admiral doesn’t say the word ‘sabotage’ without a shipload of evidence behind her, especially not when it concerns some of the most powerful people in the Federation. But Captain Janeway got the message. She put her own staff to dissecting that report. And they found nothing. So they built the drive, and it was only when they had a physical drive built and could begin testing it that they discovered the problem. There was a zero point four two phase variance in the slipstream threshold.”

“I’m not a physicist,” said Elise. “I don’t know what that means.”

“What it means,” said Tuvok, “is that if we had used that drive, Voyager would not have been able to maintain its place in the slipstream corridor. It would have been thrown out into normal space at slipstream speeds. The probability of total destruction was one hundred percent. Even with the best contingency plan we could think of to counter the variance, we estimated our survival at less than fifteen percent.”

Elise gaped at them. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that someone in the Foundation tried to sabotage Voyager?”

“That’s exactly what we’re telling you,” said Alison.

“But…that ship had one hundred and forty-eight people on it!”

“Yes,” said Tuvok calmly. “And someone was willing to kill every one of us to prevent Lynne Hamilton from coming home.”

“Oh, my God,” Elise said, looking from one to the other. “I…I had no idea.”

“Welcome to the real world,” said Alison. “Where people are willing to kill for money. Shocking, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know. Shit, I feel like an absolute idiot. You’ve been dealing with this for a year?”

“Fourteen months, actually.”

Elise shook her head. “It’s like a holonovel come to life. I just can’t believe it. But…why didn’t you ever say anything? We could have helped you!”

“You must be joking,” Alison said. “You’re one of the top three suspects.” Except she wasn’t, not anymore. Elise had been genuinely terrified of her, and the killer would have known better. But she was just pissed off enough to be a little unkind.

Elise opened her mouth, then shut it again as she rested her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. “What a fucking nightmare,” she mumbled.

“Yes, well you’ve just discovered the nightmare,” said Alison. “Some people have been living in it for a long time now. A few minutes ago you really thought I was going to kill you, didn’t you?”

Elise nodded, her head still in her hands.

“So now you have a glimpse of how Lynne feels. She survived two attempts on her life, by professional assassins. Not little smacks in the face, but assassins with deadly neurotoxins and phaser rifles. In addition to the sabotage. And she still had the guts to walk in that conference room and face all of you.”

She had more to say, but when Elise looked up she forgot her anger. There was true horror in those light gray eyes, and Alison finally cooled down enough to recognize it. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps Elise wasn’t as selfish as she appeared. She’d simply had no idea of the reality.

“Ms. Hamilton,” said Tuvok, “if you are indeed concerned with finding the person responsible for the attacks on Lynne, then perhaps you can help me with this.” He pulled a PADD from his hip pouch, activated it, and held it out. “Do you recognize this man?”

Elise took the PADD, frowned over it for several seconds, then shook her head and handed it back. “I’ve never seen him before. Or heard of him.”

Tuvok offered the PADD to Alison, who willed herself to find something familiar in the features of the man who stared out from the screen. Jefferson Wiler, aged thirty-one, and below that data was a list of half a dozen aliases. Had she seen him around the Foundation? On her way to a restaurant downtown? At any of the social events she’d attended in the last few weeks?

“No,” she said regretfully. “I don’t recognize him either.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Tuvok, “but it would have been a good lead if either of you had. Mr. Wiler bought the microtransmitter that was found in your office. He also tracked Ms. Hamilton’s movements to Voyager nine days ago, and I’m confident that when I hear back from the security staff at the Silverton ski resort, I’ll find that he was there as well.”

“So he’s their Human contact.”

“I believe so. We have a Federation-wide alert on him now. Unless he’s hiding in a cave on one of the outer colonies, we’re likely to locate him soon.”

“Wait,” said Elise. “He’s whose Human contact?”

“The Cardassians who have been hired to kill Lynne Hamilton,” explained Tuvok with admirable patience. “It’s difficult for a Cardassian to do anything on Earth without attracting attention. The assassins hired a Human contact to take care of the organizational details that would enable them to find and eliminate their target.”

“‘Organizational details.’ That’s such a clean phrase.” Elise was starting to sound like herself again. “So that man planted the microtransmitter in this office?”

“I can’t know for certain, but I believe so. Certainly he’s the one who made the purchase; we have video of the transaction.”

“But in reality he could have handed the transmitter off to someone who works here, couldn’t he? It would have been easy for someone else to do it. Like the cleaning staff—they have access to the offices, and they’re here when everyone else is gone.”

Alison couldn’t imagine Ben involved in something like this.

“It’s possible, but unlikely,” said Tuvok. “These Cardassians are a cell from the old Obsidian Order. They don’t spread their work around; it’s not in their nature or their training. The fewer individuals involved in an operation, the less likely that the operation itself will be compromised. They only use a Human contact because they have to. And their caution is justified—I know who their contact is now. When we find him, we have a connection to them. And we will also have reduced their ability to operate efficiently.”

Elise was attentively taking it all in. “Will he be able to tell you who hired them?”

“I don’t believe so. It’s extremely unlikely that they would have told Mr. Wiler anything more than what he needed to know to accomplish his objectives. For that I need to work at the other end of the chain. Ms. Hamilton, now that you have more of the full picture and know that Dr. Necheyev is truly not a suspect, is there anything you can tell me that might help me in my investigation? Anything you didn’t say when I interviewed you yesterday?”

There was a long pause, and Alison found it significant that Elise didn’t immediately say no. She seemed to be struggling with something as she studiously refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

“You do know something,” Alison breathed. “God, Elise, why didn’t you say anything before?”

Silently Elise shook her head. “Because I don’t think it’s him,” she said at last. “I don’t want to believe it could be.”

Tuvok and Alison looked at each other. “Could be whom?” asked Tuvok.

Elise’s shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath, let it out and looked up at them. “Charles is in debt to the Orion Syndicate,” she said. “He’s been leveraging loans and investors by using his future income as a guarantee. Without that income, he’s in a lot of trouble.”

“The Orion Syndicate? Is he completely out of his mind?” Alison couldn’t believe her ears. The members of that syndicate did not take financial losses lightly. If Charles couldn’t pay off his debts, he could very well be in as much danger as Lynne.

Elise gave a short, humorless laugh. “Out of his mind? In a way, I suppose. He’s been trying to save his marriage. He got it into his head that Adele would respect him more if he brought his own income into the marriage, separate from the Hamilton fortune. So he’s been pursuing an ambitious investment project. It has the potential to make a huge profit, but it needs a lot of capital to start with. He couldn’t raise all the funds on his own, so he went to the Orion Syndicate.”

“How do you know this?” asked Tuvok.

“Who do you think he came to first? I’m one of the investors. Commander, if you can at all avoid it, please don’t share this information with anyone else. I’m sure you can understand why Charles would not want his financial arrangements widely known.”

It took several minutes of questioning before Tuvok was convinced that Elise had told him every detail, and by that time Alison could see signs of very real distress in her. Though she wouldn’t trust any of the board officers until this mess was cleared up, it did seem increasingly unlikely that Elise had been involved. Not unless she was a world-class actress, and Alison had known her long enough to dismiss that possibility.

When Tuvok finished, she encouraged Elise to let them take her home.

“I’m fine,” said Elise. “Thanks for the offer, but I just want to get out of here.”

“You and me both. I still haven’t had dinner.”

Elise looked at her comm unit. “It’s after ten! Do you always eat this late?”

“Only when I’ve used my dinner to take down an intruder in my office.” At Elise’s blank look, she added, “That’s what I hit you with. My chicken pad thai.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Elise snorted. “This just gets better and better. What a complete fuck of a day.”

“It hasn’t been a complete fuck,” said Alison. “You don’t believe I’m a killer anymore, do you?”

“No, I think I’m over that.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re not, either. So there you go—progress.”

Elise shrugged. “All right, fine. My hovercraft is in the lot.”

Alison locked the door behind them, then called Ben on her comm unit to alert him to a rather unusual mess in the hall. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she said. “I tripped and fell, and my dinner is all over the hallway.”

“That’s all right, Dr. Necheyev,” came Ben’s voice. “As long as you’re okay.”

“I am,” she assured him. “Just a little embarrassed. And a lot hungry.”

He laughed and told her to get home and feed herself, and Alison thanked him before clicking her comm unit off and sliding it in her pocket. “What?” she said, as Elise looked at her strangely.

“Just…thank you,” said Elise. “For not telling him the truth.”

“He didn’t need to know. And you’re welcome.”

Alison flew Elise home, while Tuvok followed in Alison’s hovercraft. It was a silent flight, other than Elise giving directions in short, terse sentences. At one point Alison advised her to take an anti-inflammatory for her nose, but when her well-meaning words got a mere nod in response, she gave it up. When they arrived at Elise’s house she parked the craft, walked Elise to her door, bid her good night and left again, anxious to get back to her own home. She was halfway down the walk when Elise called, “Alison, wait.”

She turned back. “What?”

In a few steps, Elise closed the distance between them. “I need to…” She paused, gave Alison a ghost of her normal smile, and admitted, “This is hard.”

“What is?” Alison crossed her arms. “Just say it. I’ve never known you to hold back before.”

“You’ve never known me outside of board meetings. And I’ve never known you in any other capacity either, which is probably a big part of the problem.”

“What problem?”

“This! God, everything about this. You said it would be a cold day in hell before I showed any grace. If anyone has ever thought that little of me before, I guess I’ve just been lucky enough not to know it.” She blew on her ungloved hands and rubbed them together, then tucked them under her arms. “I need to apologize. I’m sorry, Alison. For suspecting you, for what I did in the board meeting yesterday, and for being a total ass. You were right about a lot of things. And Lynne and the rest of the people on Voyager were beyond lucky that you were looking out for them. I’m in awe, really. I’ve never known anyone before who saved a life, and you saved almost a hundred and fifty of them.”

“Actually you know several people who have saved lives. You know Captain Janeway, Seven of Nine, Commander Sandovhar, Commander Tuvok—all of them have saved Voyager from total destruction at one point or another during the years they were stranded. I’ve heard a few stories from Lynne. And there are a few people on Voyager who owe their lives to Lynne, too, but I haven’t gotten all those stories yet.”

Elise smiled and shook her head. “I stand corrected. But…they were saving their friends and their shipmates. You saved a ship full of strangers. It’s different.”

“I don’t think it is,” said Alison. “But thank you. And I accept your apology.”

“Will you accept something else?”

“What’s that?”

“Will you let me buy you another dinner sometime? To replace the one you almost broke my nose with?”

Alison couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I will,” she said. “But it has to be chicken pad thai.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 33

 

 

B’Elanna put her spanner down and carefully pulled the conduit away. With gentle hands she worked the panel free and laid it in a crate at her feet. When she straightened, the circuitry she’d exposed seemed to look at her reproachfully, and she felt a little pang in her heart.

“It’s funny,” she said, looking thoughtfully at her work.

“What is?” Revi tugged at a grid on the other side of the alcove.

“When these things first arrived on Voyager, I’d have given half a year’s rations for the sheer joy of beaming them back into space and then blowing them up with a torpedo.”

“And me along with them,” said Seven from the next alcove over.

“Well, yeah, but that was when you were still fully Borg.” B’Elanna flashed a smile at her. “And maybe for a couple of years afterwards.”

“A couple,” Seven agreed, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“But now we’re here taking them apart, and—it’s killing me a little bit. This actually hurts.”

“I know,” said Lynne from her position next to Seven. “When I first had to use one of these things, I might have cheerfully gone along with your torpedo fantasy. But everything’s changed. These are a part of our lives together.”

“It’s not just that. They’re a part of Voyager. I feel like I’m stripping my own ship.”

Revi paused. “It does feel like that, doesn’t it? I have a lot of memories associated with this alcove unit.”

“So do I.” Seven had stopped too, and was directing a look of such love toward Revi that B’Elanna felt like she was intruding just standing between them.

“Kahless.” She stepped backwards. “Haven’t you two gotten past the honeymoon stage yet?”

“Actually, I believe we’re about to enter it.” Seven shifted her gaze to B’Elanna and smiled brightly. “In ten days, Revi and I will have been engaged for six months.”

“Okaaaay. Does that have some special significance?”

“Our agreement was that after six months, we would move in together. I wanted to right away, but Revi was more cautious.”

“I know, I know,” said Revi. “And I’ll probably never hear the end of it. But I still think it was the right decision.”

“Wait a minute,” said Lynne, setting her own spanner on top of the panel she’d been working on. “Why are you so excited about what’s happening in ten days when you’ve already been living together for the past two weeks? Is something going to change that I’m not aware of? You’d better not be thinking about moving out.”

“Well, eventually, yes,” said Revi.

“We can’t presume on Gretchen’s hospitality indefinitely,” Seven added.

“Speaking for Kathryn, who can speak for Gretchen, yes you can.”

Revi laughed. “A double-proxy vote! Well done, and very presumptuous.”

“It is not, and I’m completely serious. Don’t you dare leave. Not yet. What the hell are we doing installing these alcoves in the barn if you’re not planning to stay?”

B’Elanna heard a note in Lynne’s voice that made her look at her friend more closely. “I don’t think they’re planning to leave right away, Lynne.”

“No, we’re not,” said Revi. “We’re just making some plans for our future.”

“Well, do me a favor, would you? Put that future off until you’re married.”

“That’s six months from now,” Seven objected. “We can’t possibly impose on Gretchen that long.”

Lynne stared at them in silence, then said in a choked voice, “I’m taking a break. See you in a few minutes.” She turned and walked out, leaving three very dismayed women behind her.

“I don’t understand,” said Seven. “She knows we can’t stay.”

“There’s knowing, and then there’s knowing,” said B’Elanna. “I’m going after her.”

“Should we come?” asked Revi.

“I don’t think so. She left for a reason. But, just for the record, how long do you plan to stay on the Janeway farm?”

“Gods, B’Elanna, we haven’t set a date. We’ve just been talking about where we’d like to live, that’s all.”

“We’re not going anywhere until we’re better prepared,” said Seven. “We’ve made no decisions yet—there hasn’t been sufficient time.”

“Well, I think the invitation is pretty clear. If you’ve got nowhere pressing to go, don’t go.”

“It’s not that we want to,” said Revi. “But it’s not our house.”

B’Elanna nodded, then stepped off the alcove and followed her friend out the door. As she exited the cargo bay, she said, “Computer, locate Lynne Hamilton.”

“Lynne Hamilton is on deck three, section one.”

On her way to her quarters, then. “Not good, Lynne,” B’Elanna muttered as she strode toward the turbolift. “That’s just going to make it worse.”

It took her less than a minute to arrive at the Captain’s quarters, but Lynne kept her waiting another thirty seconds before opening the door.

“Hi. Chasing me down?” She stood back, inviting B’Elanna in.

“I haven’t gotten to see enough of you today,” said B’Elanna, walking past her and turning around. “Sorry, but I just can’t leave you alone.”

Lynne glanced at her with suspiciously shiny eyes. “I wish everyone felt that way.”

“They do, Fossil,” B’Elanna said softly, and watched as the first tears fell. “Oh, Lynne. Come here.” She pulled her friend into a hug, not surprised when Lynne wrapped her up tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Lynne whispered.

“Don’t be. Kahless on a crutch, it’s not like you don’t have fifty reasons to do this. I don’t know how you’ve held on this long.”

Lynne’s breath shuddered as she wept. “Because I had to. Kathryn’s worried enough about me already.”

“You don’t think she already knows that it’ll break your heart when Revi and Seven leave?” Oh, great choice of words, you idiot. B’Elanna cursed herself as Lynne cried harder, but then decided that maybe she just needed to get it out.

“It’ll break hers, too,” Lynne managed. “It’s not just me. God, they can’t leave! Do you know they’re talking about going to Vulcan? What the hell am I going to do? I don’t want them that far away!” She squeezed B’Elanna again and let her go, standing back to wipe her cheeks. “I feel so selfish. Vulcan would be perfect for them. But it’s tearing my heart out. You’re already too far away, but at least you’re within transporter range. Vulcan…” A fresh wave of tears rushed down her cheeks. “Shit. Hang on.” She abruptly turned and vanished into the bedroom, emerging a moment later with a kerchief. “I hate crying.”

“Me too. But if ever anyone needed to, it’s you.”

“No, I don’t.” Lynne walked over to the couch and practically fell into it. “What I need to be doing is taking apart those alcoves, and packing up this room.” With a sweeping gesture she indicated the empty crates that were waiting against the wall. “We were supposed to be out of here last week, but Necheyev let us stay because we didn’t even know if we could come here safely. At least now we can trust Starfleet again.” She wiped her cheeks, then rested her forehead against the kerchief in her fist and closed her eyes. B’Elanna sat next to her and rubbed the back of her neck.

“This isn’t just about Seven and Revi,” she said.

Lynne snorted, shaking her head as more tears leaked from beneath her lids. “Whatever gave you that idea? Our life’s been nothing but a lark since the moment we landed. Kathryn’s famous, I’m rich, everyone we love is home safe and sound—sounds like a fairy tale to me.”

“My god, you’re sarcastic when you’re upset.”

“I learned that from Revi.”

“I’m wounded. You learned it from me first.”

Lynne lifted her head and gave her a quick, crooked smile. “I guess I am surrounded by qualified teachers.”

“Damn straight.”

Lynne chuckled, then leaned her head back on the couch and gave a shuddering sigh. “Okay. I think I’m done crying.” Another tear ran out of the corner of her eye. “Fuck. Nope, not yet.”

“Give yourself some credit. You’ve been through pure hell these last few weeks. Sometimes I’m amazed that you’re even functioning, much less taking on the damn Hamilton Foundation board.” She’d heard about that from Revi, who had called her after the meeting to give her an update.

“Don’t forget the President. I’m taking him on tomorrow.”

“You are? Why?” This was news.

Lynne raised her head abruptly, looking at her with wide eyes. “Uh…Foundation stuff. As soon as I had an official title, I had a job, too. I get to glad hand with politicians and rich idiots in case they can steer other rich people our way.”

“Better you than me.” B’Elanna knew Lynne was keeping something from her, but she wasn’t about to press her on it now. “The point is, you’re entitled to this, and I really don’t think you should be trying so damn hard to be strong for Janeway.”

“Kathryn.” Lynne snorted again, but this time it was mostly a laugh. “Come on, B’Elanna, just say it. You’re going to have to learn how sooner or later.”

“All right, fine. You don’t have to be that strong for Kathryn.”

“There you go! See? It wasn’t that hard.”

“No, but I’m not saying it to her face. I did that once and it took me a week to get over it.”

Lynne laughed for real this time, and it seemed to help. Her face was flushed and her eyes were brilliant, and the heightened color gave her a momentary beauty that took B’Elanna’s breath away.

“That’s just not fair,” she complained. “I cry and I look like a shuttle hit me from behind. You cry and you look stunning.”

“God, you’re a good friend. I look like shit when I cry.”

“Careful, Fossil. You’re insulting the honor of a Klingon.”

Lynne lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay. I take it back. You’re not a good friend.” She dropped her hands as her expression turned serious. “Yes, you are. Thanks for coming after me. I really needed a hug.”

“I know. But you know you could have gotten three if you’d stayed, don’t you?”

“Are you kidding? I can’t do this in front of them! They don’t need any more pressure from me. They have their lives to live, and that can’t involve making decisions based on what I’d prefer.”

“It’s not a preference,” B’Elanna said. “Right now it’s a need.”

“Great. Even better.”

“It might be their need, too. They don’t want to leave anytime soon, Lynne. But they seem to be pretty worried about imposing too long.”

“They can’t possibly impose too long. And I’m not just saying that for me. Gretchen loves them, and even more than that she loves what they do for Kathryn.”

“And for you.”

Lynne shrugged.

“Well, I think you need to make sure that Gretchen tells them that herself. They’ll stay as long they’re certain of their welcome. Besides, they know they’re your family. That counts for a hell of a lot.”

“Yeah, because god knows my real family isn’t helping much. I can’t believe those people share my name.”

B’Elanna settled deeper into the couch, resting her elbow on its back and her head on her fist as she faced Lynne. “Tell me about them. I got the report from Revi, but I’m curious to hear what you think. Brian’s the Chair, right? And sort of the head of the family.” She’d sat in on one of the strategy sessions at her father-in-law’s house, just to get an idea of what Lynne was facing, but the sheer volume of information being discussed had left her more than happy to let the pros handle it.

Lynne shifted, matching her position. “Right. Well, he’s definitely head of the Foundation; I’m not so sure about the family. But maybe it carries over. Anyway, he looks a bit like Lieutenant Parker would if he were thirty years older, had a lot more attitude, and big bushy gray eyebrows.”

B’Elanna grinned at the description. “Got it.”

“He’s actually the best of the bunch, I think. He seems to have a lot of integrity. But he also has that manner of someone who’s been used to power all his life, you know? Not much warmth there. And he was playing some ridiculous power games with me in the beginning, before he figured out that I’m the real deal. You’d think someone who had as much power as he’s used to wouldn’t be playing such shitty little games.”

“Sometimes the people who have the most power are the ones who are the least secure about it.”

“Maybe. His sister is on the board too, but she’s not an officer. That’s Melanie, and she’s a bit of a bitch. She was pleasant for exactly as long as it looked like I might be manageable. Then she went on the offensive. Not overtly to me, though. She’s the kind of person who fights without looking at you. And she can insult you and make it sound genteel.”

“I’d kill her,” said B’Elanna matter-of-factly, and Lynne chuckled.

“No, you’d kill Adele. She’s the real bitch of the bunch. I don’t get it, because she’s Brian’s daughter, but apparently none of his integrity rubbed off on her. She’s the kind who insults you to your face and doesn’t bother to make it sound genteel. Besides that, she’s got the nasty attitude of someone who thinks money and power makes you a superior person. Anyone who doesn’t have it isn’t worth her notice. That seems to include Alison, and that really got my hackles up. Jesus Christ, how can anyone look down their nose at Alison?”

“She’d have lasted about eight minutes on Voyager,” said B’Elanna.

“I’d have given her six. And I’m looking forward to teaching her a few lessons.” Lynne’s smile was just a bit predatory before she continued, “Adele’s not an officer, which is apparently a big injury to her pride. But her husband is. That’s Charles Fornay, the Secretary. He seemed pretty decent—even offered to resign his position so Elise could have it. I kind of liked him, but he’s married to Adele, so he’s either a gold-digger or a moron, and neither of those are attractive character traits.”

“Maybe he really loves her,” suggested B’Elanna, just to play devil’s advocate.

“But that would make him a moron.”

“Lynne! I can’t believe you of all people would say that about love.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. It would just make him pathetic. Anyway, it turns out that he’s now our prime suspect.”

“What? I’ve been on this ship with you for two hours and you’re only now getting around to telling me this?” B’Elanna punched her in the upper arm. “I can’t believe you!”

Lynne rubbed her arm. “Do that again and I’ll pack you in one of those crates.”

“You wish. Now tell me what the hell happened. Did Tuvok find something?”

“Sort of. He said that Alison called him to the Foundation building late last night because somebody had broken into her office. Turns out it was Elise Hamilton.”

“Elise? What the fuck? I thought you said Charles was your prime suspect.”

“He is. Apparently Elise thought Alison was the killer, and was trying to find some evidence to prove it. When Tuvok convinced her that Alison really wasn’t a suspect, she caved in and admitted that Charles is in deep debt with the Orion Syndicate. Which she of course neglected to mention when he was interviewing her the day before.”

“Whoa.” B’Elanna was impressed. “This family of yours deals with some nasty people.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, Charles was using his future income as a guarantee for loans from the Syndicate. And of course my arrival threatened that income.”

“Which means your arrival actually threatened his life.” B’Elanna could easily imagine it. “You were right, he is a moron. All the wealth and power he had and it wasn’t enough?”

“Apparently it’s the source of that wealth and power that’s the problem. He married into it. Now he wants his own money. I guess there are some marital issues involved.”

“Oh, for god’s sake. Never mind what I said about love. Is Tuvok bringing him in?”

Lynne shook her head. “Not enough evidence. But he’s questioning him today—probably right now, in fact. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he just confessed and we could put an end to this whole damn thing?”

Privately B’Elanna thought it shouldn’t end until she had the pleasure of beating that man at least three-quarters of the way to death. If he was guilty, it was the least he deserved. On the other hand... “Actually, it would be lovely if he confessed and then Tuvok turned him over to the Orion Syndicate. That would pretty much take care of things.”

“Yeah, that’s what Kathryn said. She said in a case like this, Charles would be far better off throwing himself on the mercy of the Federation court system, because at least that system has some mercy. God, I hope we find out today. I’m so tired of this.”

“I know, Fossil.” B’Elanna rubbed her arm in sympathy. “Interesting that Elise broke into Alison’s office. Sounds like your plan to pit them against each other really worked.”

“Yeah, but I meant to pit them against each other, not against Alison.”

“It still worked. Elise ratted on Charles. So much for solidarity—he offers her his position and she turns him in.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing. Fuck, I’m thrilled she turned him in.”

B’Elanna looked at her closely. “Funny, you don’t seem all that thrilled.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about this all morning, and I keep coming back to the same thing. If Elise really, truly thought that Charles was the killer, then why was she breaking into Alison’s office?”

“Maybe because she really, truly doesn’t want to believe he’s the killer.”

“Maybe,” said Lynne doubtfully.

“So, tell me about her. We haven’t covered her yet.”

“Okay. So you know she’s Melanie’s daughter.”

“And Brian’s niece?”

“Right. Which makes her and Adele cousins.”

“You’re going to have to draw me a chart.”

Lynne chuckled. “Hell, I had to draw one for myself when Alison was first telling me about all of these connections. Anyway, I’m not sure what to think of her. She was damn nasty to Alison in the board meeting, and that pissed me off, but Alison says she’s not normally like that. And I think part of the reason she was such a bitch was because she really thought Alison was guilty—if not of hiring the assassins, then at least of telling them where we were. It wasn’t like Adele-nastiness, which doesn’t seem to require an actual reason. But even when she thought I was taking her title, she never attacked me or even spoke up to defend it. Melanie and Adele did all of that for her.”

“Maybe she’s used to them fighting her battles.”

“I don’t think so. Elise doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who needs anyone to fight her battles for her. You should have seen how she tore into Alison. If she’d had her way, Alison would have been fired then and there.”

“Damn, she is a bitch.”

“Yeah, but if she really thought Alison was guilty, then she did have some reason for it. If I thought Alison was guilty I’d fire her too. And another thing—she thanked me for making the co-vice chair offer.”

B’Elanna raised her eyebrows. “Well, that is a sorry family you’ve got if you’re actually impressed that one of them knows how to say thank you.”

“I know. It doesn’t make me very anxious to meet the rest of the family. Elise has a younger brother named Stephen who apparently has no interest in the board, and Brian’s wife Catarina is supposed to be nice—according to Alison—and then there are a bunch of cousins and nieces and ex-spouses and I just don’t even want to get into it.”

“Do you think you’ll be invited to meet the rest of the family?”

“Well, somehow I don’t really picture this bunch having a backyard barbecue, you know? If there is any kind of invitation, which I don’t think will be happening any time soon, then I have a bad feeling it’s going to involve some boring function.” She lowered her voice for the last word, and B’Elanna burst out laughing.

“Oh no, not a function!”

Lynne laughed with her, and B’Elanna added, “You realize that as presumptive head of the Foundation, you’re going to be attending more functions than Janeway did in the Delta Quadrant.”

Lynne stopped laughing. “Kathryn,” she said, raising a finger. “Not Janeway. And Jesus, that’s not funny.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 34

 

 

Kathryn heaved a sigh of relief as she stepped onto the Starfleet transporter pad. Another day, another debriefing—and another lesson in what to say and mostly what not to say during her upcoming interviews. Not for the first time, it struck her as the ultimate irony that Admiral Necheyev, of all people, was trying to train her in public relations.

The transporter beam took her, and a moment later she saw the familiar surroundings of the Bloomington transport station waver into focus. She stepped off the platform, nodded to the operator and headed downstairs to the underground lot. Soon she was rising up through the exit, breathing easier as the city came into view. “Home sweet Indiana,” she said, and swung into the transit corridor to get out of town.

This was already her favorite part of the day, when she was whizzing over the road in her hovercraft, passing farms and hills and even specific trees that she’d known since her childhood. How many times had she driven this route over the years?

Not enough to get tired of it, she thought as she passed the MacGruder farmhouse. She still smiled to see it, because she always remembered how her stomach had flipped at her first view of it after landing Voyager. The last farmhouse before her own, and now the ultimate landmark in her memory.

Smoothly she tilted the hovercraft around the hill and watched her mother’s farm come into view, a residual chill ghosting down her spine. She supposed that after a while, the excitement of seeing home would wear off.

But not yet.

After setting the craft down in front of the house, she collected her briefcase, took a deep breath, and opened the door into an Indiana February night. “Jesus god, that’s cold,” she gasped. Every time she came from San Francisco to here, it was a shock to her system. Anxious to get out of the freezing air, she ran up the porch steps and hit the keypad. The moment the door opened, a furry red ball exploded up from the floor just behind it, bouncing and prancing.

“Hi, Molly,” she laughed. “I missed you, too. Come on, get out of the way so I can get inside.” She dropped her briefcase by the door and gave her dog a gentle shove. “Move your furry butt.”

Molly moved precisely as far as necessary, then bounced up again, only settling to her haunches when Kathryn started in on a two-handed scratch and general lovefest. With a last kiss to Molly’s forehead, she straightened up and saw her mother watching with a smile.

“I love the welcoming parties here,” she said.

“I love watching it. I always know when you’re landing, because she wakes up from a dead sleep and runs to the door. Your nose is already red, by the way. Why don’t you take a coat?”

“Because I only need it for the fifteen meters between the door and the hovercraft. It’s a pain.”

“Someday you’re going to arrive home in a lovely wet snowstorm, the kind where it’s just barely freezing and the snowflakes are half melted already, and—”

“And then I’ll wish I had it,” Kathryn finished for her. “I know. You can tell me that you told me so then.” She looked around. “Nobody else home?”

“Operation Alcove is still going on in the barn.”

“Really? I’d thought they’d have had those installed by now. Were there any problems?”

“No, I don’t think so. They’re just tightening the last bolts, or so Lynne said.”

Kathryn opened the closet door and pulled out her coat. “Think I’ll go see what’s happening.”

“Now you take a coat.” Gretchen shook her head in mock dismay. “Dinner’s in half an hour. You barely made it home in time.”

“Blame Admiral Necheyev for that.” Kathryn tugged on the coat and zipped it up. “Don’t worry, I’ll drag her back. Are Seven and Revi eating with us?”

“Not tonight. Seven said she wanted to try making my pesto pasta recipe.”

“She does love the kitchen in that guest house.”

“I love having them there. Helps make up for some of the times when it was too damn quiet around here.”

Kathryn saw the flash of emotion in her mother’s face and paused to give her a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

Gretchen nodded, then made a shooing motion. “Get out of here or you’re not going to get back in time. And I am not waiting. Salmon has to be served when it’s ready and no later.”

“Salmon? With your special dressing?” At the answering nod, she said, “Don’t worry, we’ll be here.” She scooted out the door, visions of grilled salmon with lemon dill dressing floating in her head. This time the air didn’t quite take her breath away, though of course the insulated coat helped a great deal. She trotted down the shoveled path to the barn, smiling at the picture it made in the darkness with warm yellow light spilling onto the snow through its large, high windows.

Stepping through the door, she found Lynne, Seven and Revi just putting away the last tools. The alcoves hummed against the far wall, looking wildly out of place in the old-fashioned barn. But the sheer familiarity of them gave her a sense of welcome security, and she paused to take in the sight.

“Hi, love.” Lynne walked up to pull her into a sweet embrace. “I missed you,” she said quietly.

“I missed you too.” Kathryn stole a quick kiss before letting her go. “They look great.”

“Don’t they? And it’s such a relief to have access to them again without jumping through the security hoops.”

“That’s for sure,” said Revi as she and Seven walked up. “No more asking Starfleet’s permission to go to bed.”

“Did everything go all right? The energy dispersal field is solid?” The last thing they needed was for an orbital scan to find Borg energy signatures in the barn.

“The field is functioning perfectly and there were no issues with the alcoves,” answered Seven. “Except when B’Elanna insisted on a less efficient method of packing.”

“Oh god.” Kathryn could just picture it. “Was any blood shed?”

“Not on my part,” said Seven coolly, and just for a moment, Kathryn didn’t know what to think. Then Seven’s lips tipped into a smile. “Kathryn, either you’ve become gullible or I’m becoming far more proficient at this form of humor.”

Revi made a choking sound, then gave up and laughed out loud. “Gods, Kathryn, your face!”

“I can’t believe you actually fell for that.” Lynne shook her head.

“I didn’t,” protested Kathryn, but nobody was listening. “Fine. Go ahead and laugh.”

Revi caught her hand and squeezed it. “We’re not laughing.” Another snort gave the lie to her statement. “I mean, we’re just enjoying having you back. We missed you.”

“I can see that. You’ve missed the butt of your humor.”

“No, we had B’Elanna for that most of the day,” said Lynne. She wrapped an arm around Kathryn’s waist. “But I think you’re tired, because you’re normally not that gullible.”

“I am,” Kathryn admitted. “Long day.”

“And long night,” Seven reminded her. “You worked a double shift.”

“But I don’t have to anymore,” Kathryn said, looking past them to the alcoves. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see them here. That was the last big thing I had to worry about on Voyager.”

The others turned to follow her gaze, watching the jagged green lights flashing above the three alcoves.

“Home is where you make it,” said Lynne. A smile spread across her face.

“What?” asked Kathryn.

“I was just thinking about what my mom always used to say whenever I forgot my manners. ‘What, were you raised in a barn?’ And look, here I am. Sleeping in a barn.”

“At least you’re in good company,” said Revi.

Lynne nodded. “The best, actually. Mom would have approved.”

Revi was predictably embarrassed at her joke being turned into a compliment. “Well, I’m ready for a shower. Anybody want to come with me?”

“Redirection,” said Seven in an aside to Kathryn. “I learned that from Counselor Troi.”

Kathryn smothered a smile. “By all means, go shower, then. I’m just going to check over the alcoves.”

“Seven already checked everything,” said Lynne.

“I know. Humor me.” Kathryn didn’t know how to explain that what she really wanted was to run her hands over the machinery. She needed the physical connection with this piece of Voyager in her mother’s barn.

As she examined the fittings and checked the readouts, she was vaguely aware of the conversation at the front of the barn. She didn’t notice the silence until she had worked her way through the third alcove and turned to find Lynne standing alone, watching her.

“Did they leave?” she asked in surprise.

“About five minutes ago, yes. You were very busy with your little petting session.”

Kathryn walked over, a sheepish smile on her face. “Can’t hide anything from you.”

“Why would you try?” Lynne pulled her into a hug. “Besides, I think you look cute fondling Borg alcoves.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

It felt good to kiss Lynne there, in a space that had suddenly become a physical juncture between her two lives. She’d spent untold hours of her childhood playing in this barn, and now an important part of her adulthood was there as well.

“I really did miss you,” Lynne whispered, nuzzling her throat. “And I’m having thoughts about christening this barn properly.”

Kathryn laughed, running her hands up Lynne’s back. “You’ll have to hold that thought, sweetheart. There’s salmon with lemon dill sauce coming out of Mom’s kitchen, and not even for—”

They froze in place, knowing from each other’s reaction that both of them had heard the small thump from the opposite end of the barn. For a fraction of a second, Lynne’s eyes burned into hers. Then they both dropped, rolled, and came up in a running crouch to take shelter behind the first alcove. The door was just too far, and they’d be too easy a target trying to get to it.

Kathryn tapped her commbadge. “Janeway to security,” she said softly. “Intruder in the barn.”

“Understood,” came the response.

The man posted just outside the barn was through the door in less than six seconds. Phaser at the ready, he side stepped toward them, keeping them in his peripheral vision while constantly scanning the rest of the space. Kathryn was impressed with his training.

A few seconds later a man and woman came in—the team who’d been guarding the front and back doors of the house. The other members of the security team had been patrolling the property, but their job now was to run in and fill the main posts, to guard against a multi-pronged attack.

As the first man came within hearing range, Kathryn murmured, “Either the hovercraft or the workshop.” He nodded, acknowledging her without taking his eyes off the rest of the barn. Using hand motions, he passed the information to the others, who immediately moved forward while he stayed behind to guard his charges.

This end of the building had been thoroughly cleaned in preparation for the alcove installation, but the other half was still a jumble. It hadn’t changed much in the last seven years. A second hovercraft sat near the center, by the big main doors. Beyond that were the various gardening and yard care implements, her father’s collection of antique hand tools, and piles of old lumber that had been there ever since she could remember. At the very end, part of the space had been walled off into a closed workshop. It and the hovercraft were the only two places that could hide an assassin.

She chafed at her enforced non-participation. It was simply not her style to hide behind a protector while others took the risk for her. But then she looked at Lynne, who was watching the two guards advancing across the barn, and knew that her wife was chafing twice as much. She put a gentle hand on her back, needing the connection. Lynne was strung as tight as a tension relay, the muscles of her back twitching as Kathryn’s hand made contact.

The two guards checked out and cleared the hovercraft first, then advanced cautiously toward the workshop. They flanked the door, nodded at each other, then flung the door open and burst in.

Kathryn waited for the shouts, the phaser fire, the sounds of a fight, but what she heard was absolute silence. She frowned in confusion. What in the hell was going on?

At last she heard a slight scuffle, though it sounded more like the guards were casually moving furniture than fighting. They walked back out, their phasers holstered and their body language telegraphing the absence of danger even before they gave the hand signal. The woman was holding something in her hands.

The guard next to them holstered his phaser as well, then spoke into his commbadge. “All clear.”

Kathryn and Lynne stepped out from the wall. “What—” Kathryn began, but Lynne interrupted her.

“Oh my god. Is that a kitten?”

They all came together in the middle of the barn, where the female guard held out a tiny ball of gray and black fur. “Here’s your intruder,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, Jesus, it’s so cute!” Lynne carefully took the kitten, which was so young that it couldn’t possibly have been weaned. It mewed weakly as it was transferred, and Lynne held it tight against her body. “Shh,” she said, petting its head with a single finger. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”

“There’s a second one inside,” said the woman. “I’m afraid it’s dead. I’m guessing something has happened to the mother. This one’s nearly starved as well; it couldn’t even stand up.”

“We don’t have cats,” said Kathryn. “The mother must have been feral. I’ll have to call the park office tomorrow to report it.” She shook her head. “Well, sorry for the false alarm. But thank you for your response; it was textbook perfect. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were Starfleet trained.”

“Thank you, Captain Janeway,” said the first man. “As a matter of fact, our tactical trainer is ex-Starfleet. He’ll be pleased to know that it shows.”

“It certainly does.” Kathryn was suddenly feeling a lot better about their private security team. “And I’d be happy to repeat that to anyone at your company who might benefit from hearing it.”

Wide smiles greeted that statement, and soon she had their names and the name of their trainer. She watched them troop out of the barn, feeling guilty that it had taken her this long to even ask who they were.

“We need to warm it up first,” said Lynne, turning toward the door. “It won’t be able to handle milk formula until we get its body temperature up. Poor thing! It would probably be dead if we hadn’t turned on the environmental controls when we beamed in with the alcoves.”

Kathryn put a hand on her arm. “Lynne…”

“What?” Lynne didn’t look up, her focus riveted to the kitten.

“Don’t get too attached. It’s a feral kitten. We need to turn it over to the park office tomorrow.”

That got her attention. “Why?”

Kathryn sighed. “This is an agricultural park. With a carefully balanced ecosystem. Feral cats are most certainly not a part of that—even one can kill enough rodents, birds and reptiles over its lifetime to throw the system off balance. This kitten needs to be removed.”

Lynne’s gaze cooled noticeably. “What exactly does ‘removed’ mean?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s weaned yet, and it’s half dead and probably sick and carrying parasites. The park office will make a decision based on their resources and the availability of—”

“Stop right there,” said Lynne. “I don’t want to hear it. You are not going to take this kitten away and kill it.”

“Lynne, you don’t have time to be a mother to an unweaned kitten!”

“Yes I do!” Lynne’s voice was unexpectedly loud, and the kitten mewed again. “Shhh, I’m sorry,” she told it in a far softer tone. “Don’t worry, you’re not going anywhere.” When she looked up again, the anger in her eyes stopped Kathryn cold. “Don’t even think it,” she warned. “I’ve had enough of death.”

“I understand that,” said Kathryn. “But are you prepared to keep this kitten for its lifetime? Because that’s what you’re getting into unless you’re willing to consider the alternative.”

Lynne petted the kitten’s tiny head again. “Well then,” she said, “meet the newest member of our family.”

 

 

-----

 

 

While Seven was replicating the dried pasta—having insisted on cooking it herself, to Revi’s amusement—a call came in from the main house.

: Revi, will you— :

: Got it. :

Revi came into the kitchen and tapped the control panel on the screen. “Hi, Gretchen. Seven hasn’t had any problems…yet.”

“Hi, Gretchen!” called Seven from across the kitchen. “Don’t listen to her, I know exactly what to do.”

“Put a hold on your dinner, ladies,” said Gretchen. “We’ve got a small emergency over here.”

Seven dropped her pasta onto the counter and was beside Revi in three steps, her heart pounding. “Is everyone all right?”

Gretchen smiled reassuringly. “Everyone’s fine. Well, all the Humans, anyway. But we have a new guest who needs your skills, Revi. A kitten.”

Revi, who had already tensed in preparation for any kind of medical issue, now relaxed and stared at Gretchen in surprise. “A kitten? I’m not a veterinarian.”

“You’re the closest thing to it that we have. Can you come over?”

“Of course. I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you.” Gretchen nodded, and the screen went black.

Revi turned to Seven in utter confusion. “A kitten?”

They were at the main house in less than a minute, and the door opened even as they were climbing the steps. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” said Kathryn, waiting just inside.

“No problem,” said Revi. “Where the hell did you get a kitten?”

“In the barn.” Kathryn stepped aside to let them pass. “Apparently we had a feral cat living there, but something happened to her. There’s a second kitten still out there that didn’t make it.”

“Wouldn’t take long for a young kitten to freeze to death without its mother,” said Revi. “So where is this new guest?”

“In the kitchen.” Kathryn gestured down the hall.

They found Gretchen and Lynne at the table, looking at the tiny animal in Lynne’s lap. It lay motionless on a small pad, which Lynne had formed into a cup shape with her hands. Seven crouched next to her, intrigued to see her first juvenile feline. It didn’t look like the images she’d seen in her research of Earth’s terrestrial species.

“Is it still alive?” she asked.

“Barely.”

“Heating pad?” asked Revi, pulling a chair over and settling in front of them.

“Yeah. But I don’t know how to tell when it’s warm enough to eat.”

Revi took out a temperature probe from the medkit she’d carried over. “No way to do this but the uncomfortable way,” she said. “Seven, will you find out what the normal body temperature of a kitten should be?”

“Of course.” With a last look at the kitten, Seven walked over to the kitchen’s computer interface. A few commands took her to the Federation’s biological database, where she found a large entry on Felis catus. She scanned the page impatiently. Ah, there it was. “Thirty-six point one degrees at birth,” she reported. “By four weeks it should be between thirty-seven point two and thirty-eight point nine degrees.”

“That doesn’t help,” said Revi. “I have no idea how old this kitten is.”

“We know it’s not a newborn,” said Lynne. “Look, the ears are standing up. That doesn’t happen for a couple of weeks, does it?”

Seven had found another, more relevant bit of data. “Food can be offered once the rectal temperature is over thirty-four point four degrees.”

“Then we’re there,” said Revi. Seven turned in time to see her drop the probe back into its container and activate the sterilization function. “But judging by the lack of complaint just now, I’m thinking it’s a bit early for food. This kitten needs to be rehydrated first. Fortunately, that’s not species specific.” She stood up and walked to the replicator. “Computer, twenty milliliters of lactated Ringer’s solution with five percent dextrose, thirty-seven point five degrees, in a feeding-tube syringe. Tube diameter two millimeters, length fifteen centimeters.”

“Well, that’s the most complicated order that replicator has ever had,” said Gretchen.

Revi turned back with the syringe in her hand. “This would be a lot easier in sickbay.”

“We’ve already brought the alcoves over,” said Kathryn. “Maybe sickbay is the next step.”

“Hold this, please.” Revi handed the syringe to Seven. “Don’t touch the tube.” She quickly washed and dried her hand at the kitchen sink. As she took the syringe back, a slight hum told Seven that she’d just sterilized her Borg arm. “Okay, time to force feed a kitten.”

Seven watched in fascination as Revi sat down again, her outward calm belying the nervousness that came through their link. It never failed to amaze her how her partner could project such a different set of emotions than what she was actually feeling.

With a gentleness that might have surprised anyone who didn’t know how finely tuned a Borg hand clamp actually was, Revi forced the kitten’s mouth open and carefully slid in the feeding tube, using a finger to guide it. The kitten barely resisted, and soon Revi was able to release its head and start the flow of solution. “So far so good,” she said. “No choking, so I’ve got it down the esophagus and not a bronchial tube.”

“Is that a danger?” asked Lynne, watching the kitten closely.

“They’re pretty close together. And it’s been a long, long time since I studied Terran vertebrate anatomy.” Revi looked up. “Seven, this is going to take a few minutes. While we’re doing this, will you see if you can figure out how old our guest is?”

Glad for the opportunity to be useful, Seven turned back to the computer and began researching the specific biology of feline life stages. Presently she asked, “Does it have any teeth?”

“None that are erupted. But I felt a few bumps under the gums, so I’d say they’re close.”

“Then I can estimate that it’s between three and four weeks old. The ears stand up at two weeks, and teeth begin to erupt at four. Weaning begins at four weeks as well.”

“Good news for you, Lynne,” said Gretchen.

“This is fascinating.” Seven wasn’t really talking to them anymore; she was too caught up in what she was learning. “Kittens don’t expel waste on their own. The mother stimulates this function by licking the perineum.”

“Bad news for you, Lynne,” said Kathryn, an evil smile creasing her face.

“Thanks a lot. I do know that much about kittens. You have to take a warm, wet washcloth and stroke its little butt after you feed it.”

“Perineum,” corrected Seven. “The area between the anus and—”

“I know, Seven. I just like the word ‘butt’ better.”

Seven found this distressingly inexact, as the perineum was not at all the same thing as the butt, but she refrained from explaining any further.

“Just so you know, that particular activity will not be taking place in my kitchen,” said Gretchen, and Revi laughed.

“Come on, Gretchen, are you telling me you never changed Kathryn’s diaper in the kitchen? Not ever?”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No, it’s a whole lot bigger. This kitten would have to defecate twenty times to equal one of Kathryn’s—”

“That’s enough,” interrupted Kathryn. “I just felt my captain’s dignity go right out the window.”

“Is that all it takes? I’ll remember that. Okay, we’re done.” Revi carefully extracted the feeding tube. “We’ll give it fifteen minutes or so to absorb that through all its systems, and then try a little milk. In the meantime, I’ll figure out the formula and program the replicator.”

Seven had found something else that intrigued her. “Revi, what did its…‘little butt’ look like when you took its temperature?”

Revi looked up. “You want to sex it? I didn’t even look, I was just focusing on the probe. Come do the comparison yourself.”

That wasn’t quite what Seven had expected, but she could hardly refuse after the public invitation. Which Revi knew, of course.

: Hey, you’re the one who wanted to know. You figure it out. :

: You’re the doctor! I’m just the engineer. :

Revi smiled at her. : It doesn’t take a doctor to sex a kitten. :

: You are so fortunate that I can never resist that smile. :

The smile grew even larger, which Seven had been counting on. She ran a hand down the back of Revi’s neck as she crouched next to Lynne. “May I?”

“Have at it.” Lynne lifted the kitten’s tail while Seven peered at the structure of its orifices. It wasn’t quite as clear-cut as the diagrams she’d been studying, which had featured nice clean line drawings. In this real-life application, the kitten’s fur nearly obscured the landmarks she was looking for. But…ah, there it was. A small bump between the anus and the urinary opening. She straightened.

“It’s a male.”

“Oh, my god,” said Gretchen. “After all these years, there’s a penis in the house.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 35

 

 

Alison laughed. “So you had security scrambling on high alert for a half-dead kitten?”

Walking next to her with an easy stride, Lynne chuckled as well. “Yeah. Not one of my more glorious moments. When I heard that thump my first instinct was to go hunting. But I had no phaser, neither did Kathryn, and it just wasn’t smart. So we had to call in the guys with guns and go hide in the corner while they took care of it for us.”

“Funny, when I heard a thump in the night, my first instinct was to run, not go hunting.” Of course, in the end she had gone hunting, and had bagged her prey after all, but Alison wasn’t about to share that information. No matter how great a story it was, the memory of the look in Elise’s eyes while Tuvok was healing her nose kept her from saying a word. She hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind.

“Go with that instinct,” said Lynne. “It’s the right one. Tuvok was pretty impressed with you, by the way.”

“He was?”

“He said you showed admirable courage and resourcefulness. His exact words. And coming from Tuvok, that’s extremely high praise.”

“Oh.” Alison felt a glow of pride out of all proportion to the compliment. “Well, thank you for sharing it. So, what happened to the kitten? Did it live?”

“He made it through the night, which Revi said was the critical part. To my eternal gratitude, Gretchen agreed to take care of him this morning. She’s taking him to her vet for a more thorough checkup, and any injections he might need. Revi said he almost certainly needed to have his chemical system rebalanced, but she wasn’t about to try to calculate dosages.”

“Handy to have a doctor in the house, even if kittens aren’t her specialty.”

“Tell me about it. She showed me how to feed him, and we got his belly full last night. Then everyone in the house magically vanished when it was time to induce him to go to the bathroom. Revi said she figured I could handle that on my own. Kathryn ran so far that I’m not even sure she stayed in the northern hemisphere.”

Alison tried not to laugh at the aggrieved tone in Lynne’s voice, but it was impossible. “Well, you are the mom now. That comes with the territory.”

“At least I only have a week of it. Four weeks is when kittens can be introduced to a litterbox. Believe me, I’m planning to jump on that one right away.”

“I do hate to ask, but…how exactly are you going to teach him to use it?”

“Good question,” said Lynne grimly.

This time Alison managed to stifle her snicker, though she was thoroughly enjoying the image of Lynne, who could be so intimidating, being rendered helpless by a tiny kitten. “It sounds to me like you’re in this for the long haul.”

“I guess so. It was either that or hand him over to be euthanized. And there is no way I’m doing that. I’ve ki—I mean, I’ve just been around too much death lately. It’s nice to be helping a life along instead.”

“Well, that is one lucky kitten to have found himself in your hands, then.”

“Thank you. I just hope the little guy makes it.”

Alison nodded in agreement, having no idea what else to say. Lynne’s attempt to cover her slip of the tongue hadn’t been nearly good enough, and suddenly she was newly aware of the blood this woman had on her hands. Three Cardassians, most likely, and how many others? She glanced over surreptitiously, trying to reconcile this concept with the cool and professional appearance Lynne was now projecting. It was impossible. Nor was she capable of understanding what it would take to kill, or to handle the guilt afterwards. Hell, she’d been horrified at what she’d done to Elise, and that was just a bloody nose. She still felt guilty about it.

Actually, she mused, that wasn’t really what she felt guilty about. Once again she remembered the look Elise had given her, and felt the same pang now that she had then. As a woman whose career depended partly on appearances and attitude, she understood exactly what Elise had lost that night. Except that she hadn’t lost it—Alison had taken it from her. And it changed the dynamic between them.

When she’d dropped Elise off at her doorstep and was then asked to wait, she’d been sure she knew what the other woman was going to say. A quiet, dignified request that Alison would please keep the evening’s events to herself; an appeal to her better nature as a fellow professional who understood that public damage to an image constructed over a lifetime could never be fully overcome.

But Elise hadn’t said any of that. She’d apologized instead. It was doubly unexpected, and Alison was afraid that her surprise had made her less gracious than she should have been. That bothered her, too.

“Is that it?” asked Lynne, jarring her out of her thoughts. Alison followed her pointing finger to see the distinctive dome of the Presidential Office of the United Federation of Planets rising above the ancient architecture of the surrounding city.

“That’s it. Looks a bit out of place, doesn’t it?”

“Well, it looks impressive, that’s for sure. I’m guessing that was the point.” Lynne stopped walking and spun in a slow circle. “I can’t believe that Paris is still so familiar. I keep thinking that everything should be different.”

“Well, it has only been three hundred and seventy-seven years.”

Lynne looked at her sharply, then relaxed into a smile. “True. Not so much time after all, I guess. It all depends on how you look at it.”

The walk down the main boulevard toward the Presidential Office was indeed impressive. Alison had done it often enough to become slightly blasé about it, but today she was seeing it through Lynne’s eyes. The soaring entry arch, the double line of enormous oak trees—planted after the third world war, she knew, to symbolize strength and renewal—the long, low wall depicting the events leading up to the creation of the United Federation of Planets…it really was a beautiful place, despite the crush of tourists from all over the quadrant.

“God, what a crowd,” said Lynne, watching a school group of Andorian children as they chattered excitedly. “Okay, Paris may not seem that different at first glance, but we never had tourists like these in my century. Now that would have changed the world.”

“That’s what did change the world,” said Alison.

“I know. It’s funny, my parents and I used to talk about that sometimes, when we’d read about the latest wars in the papers. It just seemed like humanity hadn’t improved one iota in its entire existence—our basic violent nature never evolved into something better. We just made better weapons. And we’d joke that the only thing that could possibly stop humans from trying to kill each other was if aliens landed on the planet and we suddenly realized that we weren’t the only kids in the playground.”

“I just wish that all the other kids in the playground were as enlightened,” said Alison. “The Dominion War was a true wake-up call for us. I think we’d gotten a bit complacent about peace in the quadrant, and forgot how fragile it really is.”

They walked up the steps to the huge entrance of the dome and passed through its doors into the security antechamber. As registered visitors, they were able to bypass the tourist lines and go straight to the business entrance.

“Alison Necheyev and Lynne Hamilton,” said Alison to the guard behind the desk. “We have a six o’clock appointment with the President.”

He checked his PADD, nodded, and gestured toward the thumbprint pad attached to the front of the desk. “Please verify your identity.”

Alison pressed her thumb to the pad, waited for the green light, and stepped back to give Lynne room.

“Very good,” said the guard as the light flashed green a second time. “Please step forward to the security transport. No weapons of any kind are allowed in the dome. If you’re carrying energy weapons, they will be deactivated upon transport. Non-energy weapons will be detected and removed from the transport buffer. If weapons are detected in transport, you will be apprehended upon rematerialization. Do you have any weapons to declare?”

“No,” said Alison, who had waited patiently through the familiar speech. She wondered how many times this poor guard had to repeat it every day.

Lynne bent over, pulled her pant leg up, and withdrew a wicked-looking knife from her boot. As Alison gaped in astonishment, she produced a second knife from her other boot, straightened and said, “I’ll get these back when we come out again, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the guard. “They’ll be registered under your name, and your thumbprint will be required to retrieve them.”

“Good.” Lynne set the knives on his desk. “Because these mean a lot to me.”

“I understand.” The guard picked one up, turned it over, and smiled at her. “Vulcan design?”

She nodded. “They were a gift from my savensu.”

Alison could see his respect climbing up a notch. “We’ll take good care of them for you.”

“Thank you.”

Alison went through the security transport first, then waited for Lynne. The moment they were out of earshot of the interior guards, she said, “Do you always go around with giant knives in your boots?”

“Those aren’t giant. Remind me to show you a Klingon battle dagger someday. But yes, I do.”

“Jesus.” Alison faced forward again.

“Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know.”

Lynne reached out and pulled her gently to a stop. “I think you do.”

Alison looked up at her, a spark of anger pooling at the base of her stomach. “Were you carrying those knives when you came into my house and accused me of betraying you?”

After a small pause, Lynne nodded, the regret clearly etched in her face. “I’m sorry. If I could take that back, I would, believe me.”

“Take what back? Intimidating the shit out of me, or carrying weapons into my house?”

Lynne looked around at the people streaming past them on both sides, then took Alison’s arm again and guided her to a more private space near the wall of the lobby. “I would take back the way I treated you, because you didn’t deserve it,” she said quietly. “But I will not apologize for carrying weapons, not into your house or any other place. Without them, both Kathryn and I would be dead right now. I’m sorry that it bothers you. If I let myself think about it, it bothers the hell out of me too. But this is how I have to live.”

Alison couldn’t get past the thought of those knives, and how angry Lynne had been in her living room. “If I hadn’t convinced you that it wasn’t me, would you have killed me?” she asked bluntly.

Lynne’s eyes filled with tears. “God, Alison.” She turned and walked away, leaving Alison looking after her in confusion. After a moment she jogged to catch up, and they walked together in silence. Though Alison’s mind was buzzing, she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t even sure how she felt. And this probably wasn’t the best time to get into it, since they were supposed to be meeting Gutierrez in half an hour.

“The coffee shop is over here,” she said, when it became obvious that Lynne was paying no attention to the signs.

Lynne changed direction without a word. Her face was completely shut down, and Alison felt her anger draining away. Part of her wanted to apologize for asking such a terrible question, but there was another part that needed to hear the answer. Because clearly it wasn’t a simple ‘no.’ If it had been, Lynne would have said it. Wouldn’t she?

The silence between them remained unbroken as they moved through the order line. Lynne’s voice was subdued as she asked for a hot chocolate, and Alison doubled her usual espresso order. It might be early evening here, but it was still morning back home and she really needed the pick-me-up. Maybe the caffeine would help her find a way out of the hole she’d just dug for both of them.

They found a table by the transparent wall and sipped their drinks, gazing out over the parkland that surrounded this part of the dome. Alison racked her brain to think of something to say that wouldn’t either make things worse, or sound completely inane. Nothing was coming to her, and the lack of words between them was getting more strained by the minute.

“I think I’ve killed thirteen people.”

Alison looked over in shock, but Lynne was still watching the scenery. “You’re not sure?” she asked carefully.

“Well, I don’t know for certain that all three of those Cardassians died. But the other ten—yeah, I’m sure about those.” Lynne turned her head and their eyes locked. “The first was fifteen months ago. Some young guard in a prison where Kathryn was being held. I was part of a team that was trying to get her out. And just when I found her, here was this guard shooting at her and Revi.”

Revi was there too? But Alison wasn’t about to interrupt.

“All I could think about was keeping him from killing her. It wasn’t a stun gun. I jumped him, and we fought for the phaser, and then—” She shrugged. “It was him or me.” She took a sip from her cup, but her gaze never wavered. “I had a little crisis of faith after that.”

“Because you felt guilty?” This much she could understand.

“No, because I didn’t feel guilty. Not about that, anyway. And I didn’t know why. I felt like I’d discovered a monster inside me. But Kathryn helped me to understand that I’d crossed a line into a whole new place where normal expectations just don’t work anymore. And it helped that all of my closest friends understood that place.” A humorless smile touched her lips. “Amazingly, I managed to go fourteen whole months after that without killing anybody who pissed me off.”

Alison barely even registered the sarcasm; she was too busy doing the math. Mother of God. That means…

“Then three weeks ago, Kathryn and I were abducted by a splinter group on Terellia.”

“The Free Terellians,” Alison whispered, remembering.

“You know about it?”

“Aunt Alynna told me that you and Kathryn had been abducted by Free Terellia terrorists. And that between the two of you, you killed the abductors and got away. But you were shot in the fight and you, ah…” It was oddly difficult to say out loud. “You died.”

Lynne nodded. “Temporarily. I’d have stayed dead if Kathryn hadn’t gotten me back to Voyager, and if Revi hadn’t been so damn good at what she does. Did the admiral tell you how many terrorists there were?”

Alison shook her head.

“Eleven. Kathryn killed two of them.” Lynne paused. “I got the other nine.”

She’d expected that, of course. But hearing the words had the effect of taking the air from her chest, and she could only stare.

“When I woke up in sickbay and found that I’d killed nine people, I had another little crisis of faith, as you can imagine. It’s still surreal to me. I look back on that and I can’t believe it happened. But…” She lifted her hands, palms up. “It did. And even if I could change my own actions, I wouldn’t. It’s taken me a little while to figure that out, but Kathryn was right. I did what I had to. I had no choice. And I’m glad I did it, because that’s why Kathryn’s in a parade right now instead of a coffin draped in a Starfleet flag.” She picked up her cup, then put it down again without taking a drink. “But there’s something you need to know. Of those thirteen people, none of them were standing in their living room, unarmed so far as I knew, and presenting no clear threat to me or anyone else. Yes, I was angry, and I wanted answers. But I didn’t go to your house to kill you. Even if you had admitted that you were the one—well, I’d have wished like hell that you’d give me a reason to hurt you, but that’s it. I’m not a monster.”

Her voice caught on the last sentence, jarring Alison out of her silence. “I know you’re not.”

“Do you?”

And just like that, her confusion cleared. She reached out to put a hand over Lynne’s. “Yes. I’m sorry. It was a stupid question—no, it was,” she said as Lynne shook her head. “I should have known better. For God’s sake, you just rescued a kitten.”

With a surprised snort, Lynne said, “That just proves I’m a sucker for half-dead balls of fuzz.”

“I think you’re a sucker for a lot of things.” Alison was suddenly as sure of this as of her own name. “And I think anyone who can call you their friend is damn lucky.”

Looking down at their hands, Lynne said quietly, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Alison tightened her grip. “I’d like it if I could call you that.”

Lynne raised her head and smiled. “I’d like that too.”

Alison squeezed again, nodded, and withdrew to pick up her cup. “Drink up, then. We’ve got ten minutes.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Tuvok set the PADD down on his desk and turned his chair to face the windows. He’d spent the previous day showing Wiler’s image to Foundation employees and getting nowhere. Nor had his questioning of Charles Fornay been more than marginally productive. Charles had admitted his debts but denied any involvement in the murder attempts, and Tuvok simply had no evidence to indicate otherwise. He had also done some further checking on Elise Hamilton, but found nothing to counter his impression that Elise had been genuinely shocked to hear about the attempted sabotage of Voyager.

He rose from the chair and stood, hands clasped behind his back as he absorbed the view. Dr. Necheyev had given him a temporary office in the Foundation building, and he found the spartan furnishings unusually restful for a Human office. The lack of decoration made concentration easier, but he had found that meditating on the view of the distant mountains was even more effective. Now he stared at them, turning his thoughts inward and sifting through the pieces of the puzzle to determine which one he should pick up next. There was no doubt in his mind that the killer would be most easily traced from this end of the chain, but how? What traces might have been left behind?

The beep of an incoming message interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see the Starfleet emblem flashing on his screen, along with the name of Admiral Alynna Necheyev. Crossing to the desk, he sat down and tapped the console. “Yes, Admiral.”

“Commander, we have Jefferson Wiler in custody. He was picked up in Bloomington, Indiana and transferred here.”

“Bloomington?” Tuvok was surprised the man would go to the one place where local officers were on the highest alert. There was only one logical reason for his presence there. “Then the contract must still be active.”

Necheyev nodded shortly. “He’s not talking, but I believe he was there to assess the security operation at Gretchen Janeway’s farm. It would appear that there is indeed at least one other member of the cell still pursuing the contract.”

“There is no longer anything to be gained financially by Lynne Hamilton’s death,” said Tuvok. “The only remaining motive is revenge for her firing of the managers.”

“I agree. It would appear that we’ve underestimated the instigator of this contract, Commander. He or she is willing to risk discovery to make sure Ms. Hamilton dies.”

Which made this individual a great deal more dangerous. “Do you require my assistance in questioning Mr. Wiler?”

“No. Keep working on that end. I suspect your efforts will yield more useful information than Mr. Wiler.”

Tuvok suspected that she was right. Contract employees of the Obsidian Order did not find it healthy to reveal any information about their employers. Wiler would fear his employers far more than the Federation justice system.

“Understood,” he said. “Have Captain Janeway and Ms. Hamilton been notified of this development?”

“Captain Janeway is in the middle of a parade in New York at the moment. And Ms. Hamilton is in a meeting with the President. I’ll contact both of them as soon as they’re available. In the meantime, I’ve assigned a security detail to the captain. They’re already on the parade route with her, though she doesn’t know it yet.”

“Captain Janeway is not fond of security details,” said Tuvok.

Necheyev almost smiled. “I’m guessing there’s an entire book of unspoken history in that little comment, Commander. But if revenge is the motive, then she could be in as much danger as Ms. Hamilton.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Kathryn’s arm was tired from the waving. At first she’d felt ridiculous and completely self-conscious waving at all of the people lining the parade route, but as time passed and she absorbed the genuine joy and excitement coming from the crowd, she eased into her role. After all, this wasn’t really about her. It was about the symbol she represented, of a lost ship returning home. After all the ships lost in the Dominion War, and the horrifying numbers of casualties, these people needed something to celebrate. She was willing to be a part of that. God knew she understood the importance of morale boosters in the face of tragedy.

She brushed a few stray pieces of ticker tape off her uniform. They’d been lucky with the weather—it was clear and crisp, but not freezing. The sunshine highlighted the blizzards of paper strips tumbling down from the windows of the buildings, and the image was one that she knew would be splashed on FedComm screens all over the Federation. Which, of course, was exactly what Starfleet wanted. If her privacy hadn’t been thoroughly eradicated before, it was now. She was never going to be able to go anywhere again without being recognized.

As her hovercraft moved smoothly forward, she caught a glimpse of yet another Starfleet security uniform in the crowd. Odd. There were far more than necessary, and she was beginning to have her suspicions as to why. The first thing she was going to do when she had a moment to herself was call Lynne and make sure everything was all right.

When she turned to wave at the people on the other side of the street, her attention was caught by an older woman who stared up at her with a stony expression. Her lack of participation made her stand out in the shouting, exuberant crowd, and as Kathryn watched, the woman withdrew a small box from her coat. Time slowed down as Kathryn tensed, waiting for a threat she sensed but didn’t yet understand. And then the air above the woman shimmered, glowed, and burst into color. A holographic sign, with the same words arranged in a pyramid pattern readable from three different directions. In enormous capital letters it said, WHAT ABOUT THE ONES YOU LEFT BEHIND?

 

 

-----

 

 

“Ms. Hamilton, Dr. Necheyev, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” President Gutierrez came around from behind his desk and shook their hands, then gestured toward the couches facing each other over a gleaming antique coffee table. “Please, have a seat. May I offer you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” said Lynne. “We’ve already tried out the local coffee shop.”

“Oh, I wish you’d waited. My personal chef makes the best coffee in the quadrant.”

They settled onto the couches, with the President on one and Lynne and Alison on the other. Gutierrez opened the meeting with all the assurance of a man who knew the script. “I was delighted to hear that your identity has been confirmed,” he said, looking at Lynne. “Of course I had no doubt, but the legalities had to be satisfied.”

“Funny, I had no doubt either.”

Alison knew Lynne hadn’t said that for humorous effect, but Gutierrez chose to hear it that way and smiled.

“I was also happy to hear that you’ve already been installed as Co-Vice Chair of the board. Congratulations. That must be quite satisfying, to know that you’ve finally stepped into the role that your parents left for you.”

“It is, thank you. And a tremendous responsibility. Fortunately, I’ve got an excellent instructor teaching me the ropes.” Lynne looked at Alison, leaving no doubt as to who the instructor was. Gutierrez beamed at her as well.

“I imagine you’ve been kept busy, between working with Ms. Hamilton and redirecting the Foundation’s mission.”

“Working with Ms. Hamilton has been a privilege,” said Alison, deliberately not answering the second part of his probe for information. “I think she’s going to be a tremendous asset to the Foundation.”

“Thanks, Alison.” Lynne gave her a quick smile, then looked at Gutierrez. “But the Foundation’s mission hasn’t been redirected.”

He managed to keep his friendly expression in place, but it looked a bit strained. “Really? Is there still an issue with your authority?”

“No, not at all. I just haven’t decided that redirecting the mission is the best thing for everyone concerned.”

“Ms. Hamilton.” He leaned forward, his tone slightly patronizing. “Believe me when I say that it is the best thing for everyone concerned. The Hamilton Foundation and the Federation have had a close relationship for hundreds of years, and the society you see on Earth today—and in the other planets of this Federation—is due in no small part to that relationship. Hamilton Foundation resources have enabled the Federation to focus its own resources on social issues, environmental reclamation and conservation, medical research, defense, and technical research of every kind. Your Foundation has given the Federation an advantage over every other major power in two quadrants by enabling it to conserve resources that would otherwise be spent on developing technologies of space exploration. But the Dominion War has been extremely costly in every way, and we are nowhere near the point of being fully rebuilt. The loss of Foundation resources now, of all times, is truly crippling.”

Lynne eyed him. “Didn’t you just congratulate me on my installation as Co-Vice Chair of the Hamilton Foundation Board?”

Taken aback, he said, “Yes, I did.”

“Then why are you sitting there and giving me a remedial lecture on my own Foundation? Do you really think I don’t know the most basic details about the organization I’m taking over?”

Alison pressed her lips together to hold back the smile. No doubt Gutierrez had never been spoken to like that in his entire presidency, and he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding his surprise.

“I do apologize,” he said, recovering. “I assumed that since you haven’t decided about the mission, perhaps you didn’t fully understand its import.”

“Of course I understand its import. I understand a few more things, too. I understand that you’re up for re-election next year, and that losing the Foundation’s resources looks pretty bad on your political resumé. I also understand that your desire to recover those resources led you to a game of brinksmanship with my wife that put the lives of one hundred and forty-eight people at risk.”

Whoa, thought Alison. She took off the gloves early.

Gutierrez looked at her, recognized an open antagonist, and traded his patronizing tone for a condescending one. “With all due respect, you’re new at this and I’m afraid you’re in over your head. My decision to order the use of the slipstream drive was based on a clear assessment of the risks and benefits. It was my considered opinion that the benefits of getting you home, and getting that policy reversed, was worth a risk that frankly was overstated.”

“Who gave you that advice? Because it was not in your best interests.”

His mouth tightened. “I receive advice from a number of qualified people. My decisions are my own.”

“I see. So you would honestly assess a fifteen percent chance of survival as an overstated risk?”

“Ms. Hamilton, please consider the possibility that the risk factor you quote might not have been accurate. My own sources quoted me a very different factor.”

“The risk factor I’m quoting came from the senior officers of Voyager, and more specifically the people who built that drive. Where did yours come from? Lieutenant Harry Kim?”

The bolt went home, though Gutierrez showed it only by a very slight narrowing of his eyes. “I am not in the habit of discussing the opinions of my advisors once my decision has been made. If I did that, this government would grind to a standstill.”

“That’s all right,” said Lynne easily. “You already discussed it. With my wife, when you used Harry’s opinion as a reason why she should use the slipstream drive. An opinion that Harry gave in a private message to his parents. So you intercepted a private message—is that even legal?—and then used a lieutenant’s unofficial opinion as a reason to overrule a captain’s decision. You know, I don’t think I’m the one who needs remedial lessons here.”

Gutierrez was clearly taken aback by her attitude, and even Alison was a bit startled. Lynne wasn’t making the slightest pretense toward diplomacy, and the President didn’t quite know how to address it. He wasn’t accustomed to dealing with people who didn’t even try to play the game.

“I can understand why you would see this situation from an emotional standpoint,” he said, trying another tack. “You’re very close to it, both as the wife of Captain Janeway and as a member of Voyager’s crew. But you must understand that I can’t afford to be emotional. I can’t afford to think in smaller terms. I have to consider the best interests of the Federation, and sometimes that comes into conflict with the best interests of individuals. It’s the burden of government.”

“I agree with you,” Lynne said, throwing him off balance. “It’s the burden of command, too. I’ve seen Kathryn struggle with just those kinds of decisions.”

“Yes, of course you have.” Alison could hear a thread of relief in his voice.

“Except that Kathryn would never, ever factor her own personal interests into such a decision.”

His eyes widened. “If you are suggesting that I made—”

“I’m not suggesting it. I know it. Come on, Mr. President, let’s stop dancing around it, shall we? You and I both know that you needed Voyager back here now, not next year or the year after. We were already more than halfway home, and the added input from the Foundation’s resources were almost certainly going to bear fruit in a short time. But that time wasn’t short enough for you. Not for the Federation, you. So you chose to ignore the facts that you didn’t like, and gave an order that you felt was politically expedient. Except that you essentially ordered Kathryn to commit suicide and take her ship and her entire crew with her. And then you threatened her with a court-martial for having the guts to refuse.” She leaned forward. “When you were calculating your chances, didn’t it occur to you that Captain Janeway’s wife might just be angry enough at your indecent behavior to decide she wouldn’t give you what you wanted?”

“No,” he said. “Because it never occurred to me that you would put a personal vendetta before the best interests of your world and the entire Federation—not to mention your wife’s career.”

“Ah, here we go.” Lynne sat back again. “I play nice and Kathryn gets her admiral’s bars, is that it?”

He inclined his head. “As I said before, you’re new at this. Politics is not about valiant stands and unilateral decisions for all that’s right and good. It’s a business of compromise. It’s people and nations and entire planets who don’t like each other setting their differences aside and agreeing to compromises that give everyone some part of what they want. Not all of it, but part of it. I’m sure that you and I can find just such a compromise.”

“The art of the possible,” said Lynne. “That’s what we called it. So, I’m glad to know where you stand. Except you forgot the other part of our compromise—the Maquis amnesty.”

“That is an extremely delicate issue.” He didn’t seem at all surprised that she’d brought it up.

“Of course it is, which is why nothing’s been done on it for months. But Voyager is home now, and there’s a significant part of her crew sitting in legal limbo because the politicians can’t decide what to do with them. Don’t you think it’s time to take care of that?”

“That’s not my decision, Ms. Hamilton. The Maquis issue is in the hands of the Federation Council.”

“My mistake,” said Lynne silkily. “I thought the President of the Federation might have some influence with the Council.”

He shifted on the couch, deliberately assuming a more relaxed pose. “My office does have some influence, should I choose to use it. Though of course I can never guarantee that a majority of the Council will follow my recommendation on any particular issue, especially one so delicate as this.”

Alison looked back and forth between them, marveling at how the discussion had slid right into a classic political negotiation. Gutierrez was clearly feeling in his element as well.

Now Lynne was shaking her head. “Not good enough. You talk about compromise, but you’re offering very little. I’m holding your political future in my hands, Mr. President. Isn’t that worth a few chats with Council members? Calling in a few favors, perhaps? And then you can spin the result as a mark of your own vision for post-war unity. Voyager finally comes home, and the President nudges a stalemated Council into declaring amnesty for the Maquis members of its crew. The men and women who forged the ultimate compromise, giving up their own ship and potentially their freedom in order to work together with a Starfleet crew toward a common goal. What a perfect symbol for the rebuilding of the Federation.”

“You paint a compelling picture.” Gutierrez looked at the massive grandfather clock tucked into a corner of his office. “Do you know, I haven’t yet had my own coffee this evening. Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything? I’d recommend it.”

“No, thank you.”

“Dr. Necheyev?”

“Thank you, but I already had a double espresso. Any more and I’ll be levitating.”

He chuckled. “Well, I hope you won’t mind if I drink without you. I’ll just be a moment.” He rose and exited through a side door, leaving them alone with the slow ticking of the grandfather clock.

“He doesn’t have to get his own coffee—normally he’d call to have it brought in,” whispered Alison into Lynne’s ear. “He’s using this time to make his decision look like he’s thought about it. You’ve got him; there’s no way he’ll turn you down. It’s a win-win situation for him.”

Lynne nodded, and Alison leaned back in to add, “Where the hell did you learn to negotiate like that?”

“I was Kathryn’s personal security escort,” she whispered back. “That means I spent hours watching her do just this kind of crap. And she’d bounce her strategies off me beforehand, just to hear how they sounded. Never, ever get into a bargaining session with Kathryn. She’ll walk off with the clothes on your back.” A pained look crossed her face. “But I did forget her cardinal rule.”

“What’s that?”

“Never drink before a negotiation.”

Alison snorted with suppressed laughter. “You poor thing.”

The clock counted off two more minutes before the door opened and Gutierrez walked back in with a silver tray. Setting it on the table, he sat down and gestured toward the plate on the tray. “I brought a few of the chef’s homemade cookies while I was at it. Give them a try, they’re excellent.”

“They are good,” said Alison, picking up a napkin and a cookie. “I’ve had them before, and I can recommend them.”

“You haven’t steered me wrong yet.” Lynne took a cookie for herself, and Gutierrez smiled at them over the rim of his coffee cup.

“You won’t be sorry,” he said. “Now, Ms. Hamilton, regarding what we were just discussing—in truth I always felt amnesty was appropriate. The issue with the Maquis is that legally, their actions were treason. You can imagine that these days, so soon after a devastating war, the concept of treason tends to be an extremely hot issue.”

“Yes, I can,” said Lynne. “You’re right, it is a good cookie.”

He smiled again. “Chef Sendax is one of the perks of the office. But as I was saying, the Maquis on Voyager are a special case. In essence they’ve already served a seven-year sentence. In addition, they’ve proven their loyalty to Federation ideals and principles by virtue of their performance under Captain Janeway’s command. I’ve viewed her recommendation for their amnesty; she’s very eloquent in her praise. And of course, there is the matter that the Maquis were actually prescient in their vision of the true nature of Cardassian territorial expansion. The treaty they violated was broken by the Cardassians themselves only a few years later.”

“I agree,” said Lynne. “Surely the Council can be encouraged to see the advantages of your point of view.”

“I believe that it can, and I’m willing to put the resources of this office into that pursuit.” He sipped again, then set his cup down on the tray. “It also occurs to me that perhaps I owe Captain Janeway a favor after the difficult position I was forced to place her in. Once again, I have no actual power with Starfleet, but I can certainly issue a recommendation toward her promotion.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?” His smooth flow had been interrupted, and it took him a moment to recover. “You don’t want that recommendation?”

“What I don’t want is for Kathryn’s career to be any part of our agreement. That was your offer, not my request, and I’m taking it off the table. Kathryn wouldn’t want a promotion based on anything but her performance and her qualifications. I would prefer that the President’s Office stay completely out of it—neither helping nor hindering. And that means removing all mention of your request for court-martial from her records.”

“I see. Well then, I’ll withdraw that offer since that’s your preference, and the issue of Captain Janeway’s service record is an easy one to rectify. Then we have come to a compromise, have we not? I think the Federation Council can be encouraged to vote on the Maquis amnesty within the next week. And it will be a great pleasure to announce both the amnesty and a return of Foundation funding.”

“The return of Foundation funding? Oh, but I haven’t decided on that yet. As I told you, I’m still considering the alternatives.”

Gutierrez couldn’t have been any more surprised than Alison, who looked at Lynne in utter bewilderment. What in the name of God did she think she was doing?

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Gutierrez. “What were we discussing if not the reversal of that policy?”

Lynne’s smile was positively predatory. “We were discussing your political future, Mr. President. You’ll recall that I said I held it in my hands. Our deal is that you’ll arrange the Maquis amnesty, and get your dirty fingerprints out of Kathryn’s service record, and in exchange I won’t put an end to your career.”

He frowned. “That is not what we were discussing. Nor do you have the power to act on that threat.”

“Then I think it’s time for your remedial lecture. So let me make this very simple for you.” Lynne dropped the remainder of her cookie on the tray. “When I said that your decision to force Kathryn to use the slipstream drive was not in your best interests, I meant that quite literally. The day you tried to destroy my wife is the day you made a lifelong enemy of me. I don’t take kindly to self-important assholes fucking with the woman I love, and it just so happens that I’m now a very, very wealthy woman. I’m quite willing to put every bit of my personal fortune into buying a deep hole to drop your career into. I’ll also be happy to advertise the true reason why the Federation lost every bit of the Hamilton Foundation funding on your watch, and I’ll make it clear that whoever runs against you should come talk to me about renewing that funding next year. And I will spend every minute of my time making sure that the highest elected office you ever see from now on will be head of a wastewater district. It will be an absolute pleasure, believe me.”

Both Alison and Gutierrez were staring at her with slack jaws. Alison was the first to recover, and in solidarity she placed the remainder of her own cookie on the tray as well. She folded her hands in her lap and watched Gutierrez, waiting for his response.

“I think perhaps you’ve allowed your emotions to affect your judgment,” he said at last. “Your anger is understandable, and I accept that you have cause for it. But this is not a solution. You’re gravely underestimating my own power. You’ve just arrived on the scene, Ms. Hamilton, but I’m the President of the United Federation of Planets. I didn’t get here by not knowing how to defend myself. You aren’t the first person to hold a grudge against me, and you certainly won’t be the last. But I would be dismayed if I were forced to act against you. We’re much better off as a team, and you would be far better served by having me as a friend than an enemy. Think carefully before you do anything you’ll regret. If I’m attacked, I’ll make sure you’re investigated and pilloried in a very public manner. Your name is news right now, but you have no idea how fast the news cycle turns and how quickly public admiration can turn to contempt. Your reputation, nascent as it is, can be easily destroyed and you would find it very difficult to get your own accusations publicized. You’re too new on the scene to have built up any credibility, and no amount of money can buy the kind of connections and abilities that I already hold.” His expression, which had been disarmingly open, now hardened as he drove his point home. “And it would be such a pity if any misguided actions on your part spilled over onto your wife. I hear she’s accomplished some remarkable things in the Delta Quadrant—but she also made some very questionable and possibly actionable decisions. The line between a promotion and a demotion can sometimes be rather thin. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Clearly.” Lynne’s jaw was tight.

Gutierrez nodded. “Don’t try to play this game with me. You will not win. Now, you already have a good offer on the table. Take it and count yourself fortunate that I’m willing to forget what you’ve just tried to do.”

Alison watched Lynne, praying that she’d get control of the anger that was positively radiating from her. Gutierrez had known exactly which button to push. Not surprising, since she’d freely told him of her greatest vulnerability. She’d practically given him the knife to stab her with.

And then, suddenly, Lynne relaxed. The transformation was eerie, and a glance at Gutierrez confirmed that he’d been thrown by it as well.

“It’s interesting that you should mention such things as investigation and the public destruction of a reputation,” said Lynne in a conversational tone. “So you obviously understand the stakes should any unsavory little details from your past come under close scrutiny. I may be underestimating your power, but you’re underestimating how new I am on the scene. You’re familiar with the concept of the Borg collective mind, aren’t you?”

He drew his brows together in confusion. “I don’t see what that has—”

“It has everything to do with it. In the Delta Quadrant I was assimilated by the Borg. I spent three days as a part of the Collective, and I still carry a few souvenirs. Once the Borg take you, you’re never fully Human again. It’s impossible to get all the implants out. This arm, for instance.” She held her right hand in front of her and looked at it reflectively. “You’d never think it wasn’t real, would you?” Reaching out, she took a corner of the silver tray and effortlessly bent it upward. As Gutierrez gaped, she said, “It’s generally not wise to judge by appearances. Now, another one of my implants is here.” She tapped her head. “It’s called a cortical implant, and it’s essentially a computerized repository of the Collective’s entire knowledge base. You would be amazed at what’s in here. Personal memories are the most astonishing things. And the Borg have a lot of personal memories from assimilated Humans. I know the Federation puts the death toll from Wolf 359 at eleven thousand, but I’m sorry to tell you that most of those people didn’t die. They were assimilated. And all those memories are right here in this implant. Not to mention memories from all of the people in the colonies that were destroyed in the second Borg attack, and of course the various random ships that were caught along the way.”

She bent the tray corner back down, but left it slightly out of alignment. “Now, you’ve talked quite a lot about compromises. I wonder how it would look if some of your more… dishonorable compromises came to light? Or any of your past actions that you’re not entirely proud of, and wouldn’t want the entire Federation to know about? Wouldn’t it be just amazing if the Borg Collective happened to have, in all of those thousands of lives’ worth of memories, a few memories from someone who knew what you’d done?”

Gutierrez went pale as she leaned further forward, her eyes intent on his. “You’re the President of the United Federation of Planets. The single most important political figure in the Federation. The Borg knew that, which meant that any information about you was of great interest to them. They kept it all. So I may be new on the scene, but my knowledge is not. I know far more about you than you can imagine, and more than you would ever wish. I also know a few reporters who would be delighted to have another interview with me. Take my offer, Mr. President. And count yourself fortunate that I’m even willing to do that much. Because believe me, destroying your career is still tempting, and I’d do it in a heartbeat if you didn’t happen to have one thing that I want. The Maquis amnesty is the only thing holding me back. So as much as it pains me, I’m willing to forget what I know, and let you keep your reputation. Take care of that amnesty in the week that you just said was possible, clean up Kathryn’s record, and I’ll leave you to your own fortunes.”

In the silence that fell over the room, the ticking of the grandfather clock seemed extraordinarily loud. Lynne never took her eyes off Gutierrez, and judging by his expression, she had shaken his confidence. At last he cleared his throat and said, “If I make that recommendation, do I have your word that I will never hear of you or from you again, in any capacity related to this discussion?”

“Your recommendation isn’t good enough. I want the full weight of your office behind the amnesty. Get that approved next week and then yes, you have my word.”

He nodded. “Then our business is concluded.”

“Good.” Lynne rose immediately, with Alison following suit. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said. “If I ever have reason to suspect interference from you or this office in my wife’s career, this deal is off.”

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “There’s no need for that. I’m not a stupid man.”

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. President.” She held out her right hand with a perfectly straight face. Gutierrez hesitated, then reached out and shook it. He was still looking at the tray when they let themselves out.

It wasn’t until after Lynne had collected her knives and they’d walked into the open air that Alison felt it was completely safe to say what was on her mind.

“What in the hell was that? You took a big chance in there! He gave you what you wanted right from the beginning; why didn’t you just take his first offer?”

“Because he’d have gotten what he wanted in return. That wasn’t good enough. I want that bastard to know that he made a huge fucking mistake and that I’m not letting him get away with it. Maybe he’ll think twice about doing something that shitty in the future. But probably not.”

“You took that chance just because you were pissed?”

“I took that chance because it was the best legal alternative to what I really wanted to do to him.”

And to think I believed Kathryn was the one doing the protecting. “Well, you had me scared. I thought he was going to eat you for lunch. Whatever you’ve got on him, it must be good.”

“That would be a coincidence, wouldn’t it? If my Collective memories actually included dirt on the one person I needed it for?”

Alison stopped in her surprise, then hurried a few paces to catch up. “Did I just hear you say that you bluffed the President?”

Lynne looked like a Russian who had just figured out how to turn water into vodka. “Like I told you, I’ve learned a few things from Kathryn. Everyone has their secrets.”

“Sweet Jesus on the cross!” Alison wanted to pull her hair out. “I can’t believe it! You’re completely insane!”

“I’ve heard that before. And you swear like a Catholic sailor. It’s really surprising, coming from you.”

Alison was speechless for one of the few times in her life.

 

 

-----

 

 

“Thank you,” said Tuvok, accepting the PADD from a Foundation researcher. He’d requested a copy of the Foundation’s own final report on the slipstream drive, and it had been delivered to his office with admirable efficiency. After copying the file into his personal PADD, he ran a textual comparison of the original with the version that Voyager had received via the MIDAS array. As expected, there were no differences. He reset the display of his PADD to show Voyager’s file, then laid the Foundation PADD next to it on his desk and began a line by line comparison of the data blocks. It was a long shot, but perhaps whoever had slipped the mousetrap into this report had left digital tracks. Of course the Starfleet engineers on Admiral Paris’ team had already been through this with a fine-toothed comb, but Tuvok preferred not to eliminate potential leads from his investigation until he had personally seen and dismissed them.

After thirty minutes he assessed his progress and mentally crossed everything else off his schedule. This was going to take all day.

 

 

-----

 

 

By the time Kathryn reached the studio for her post-parade interview, the press had already identified the woman in the crowd as Susanna Martin. Her son, Ensign Joseph Martin, had been killed on Voyager during their third year in the Delta Quadrant.

Inevitably, the questions from her interviewer turned to Ms. Martin and her sign. “Captain Janeway, in the midst of all the celebrations, Ms. Martin has reminded us that not everyone came home. It must be difficult for the families of those who didn’t return to see so much happiness when they themselves are faced with the ultimate loss. If Ms. Martin were here with us right now, what would you tell her?”

“I’d tell her that I would be grateful for the chance to meet her, in a more comfortable and private place, to talk about her son. Joseph Martin was a good officer and a good man, and his death was a tremendous loss for all of us.” She faced the camera and went completely off the script that had been drilled into her the previous day. “Ms. Martin, if you’re watching this, I’d like to give you a personal invitation. Please contact me. I know I can’t understand the loss of a son, but I understand very well the loss of a family member. Both my father and my first fiancé died in the service of Starfleet. And my crew on Voyager was more than just a crew to me. They became my family as well. When all you have is each other, and very little hope of getting home, the normal relationship between captain and crew changes. The names and faces of every person we lost in the Delta Quadrant are burned into my heart and my memory.

“There are other families who have suffered a similar loss. My invitation extends to them as well. And I think it’s appropriate to take a moment, right now, to honor every single one of those who didn’t share the joy of seeing familiar stars once more. They are Ensign Lyndsay Ballard. Crewman Kurt Bandera. Ensign Thomas Bennet. Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Cavit. Ensign Claudia Craig. Crewman Frank Darwin. Lieutenant Peter Durst…”

She recited the names and ranks of them all, in alphabetical order because that was the way she’d had them listed in her file. The file that she had opened now and again, in her moments of deepest despair, when she’d felt the need to drive the knife further and force herself to face the consequences of her decisions and her command. Those moments had come far less often after she’d met Lynne, but she could still see the file in her mind’s eye. When she’d said those names and faces were burned in her memory, it wasn’t an exaggeration.

After the twenty-third name, she turned back to see a look of respect on her interviewer’s face. “In honor of those you have just named,” he said, “we would like to observe one minute of silence.” A moment later he held his finger across his throat, indicating that the cameras were no longer active. Leaning forward, he said quietly, “They’re seeing a panorama of stars right now.”

She nodded, swallowing the tightness in her throat.

 

 

 

 

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